Ours Verse 4: Baffling Times
by KeelieThompson1
Summary: Last installment of the Omega!John and Alpha!Sherlock verse. The Holmes family has a series of baffling moments as the kids become adults. Sometimes it's hard to tell who is more confused!
1. Boyfriends

Author's Note: So this will be the last installment of the alpha/omega verse thing. There will be seven chapters in all and they will spell baffled! They will time jump and the fic should take us up to the kids being in their twenties.

Thanks to Lutz for editing this :)

* * *

Boyfriends

"Guess what?" Callum asked as they walked in.

Sherlock was starting to hate these guessing games. He never managed to predict what would come out of Callum's mouth.

"You found the bones at the back of the wardrobe?" Sherlock guessed, even as John, who was ahead of him and walking to the kettle, turned to glare.

"No," Callum said slowly, his shoulders sinking. "Can I see them?" he asked the next instant eager as a puppy.

"No," John said at the same time as Sherlock said "Yes."

Ah.

"Not before bed," John said with a glare. "I'm not having you give your sister nightmares."

Callum's eyes lit up again and he bounced from foot to foot as Faith wandered in with a biscuit.

"Teagan has a boyfriend," Faith told them cheerfully, giggling at the idea.

What?

"Does she?" John asked, ridiculously calm with this information.

Faith nodded as Callum glared at her.

"I wanted to tell," he sullenly complained. "I got them interested and everything," he added, glaring at her.

"Who?" Sherlock demanded. "What is his name?"

"Bobby," Faith said, reaching her hands up to Sherlock for a hug. Obediently, Sherlock swept her up.

There was no way any of his children were allowed to have boyfriends. It was simply not happening. He knew what boys were like, he thought glancing at his mate.

He knew what John had been like. And, for that matter, John shouldn't be looking so at ease with it all.

"Say something," he ordered John, turning to look at his mate properly.

John rolled his eyes. "They're kids, Sherlock. It's fine-"

"What if they…" he glanced at Callum and Faith and then turned fully to John, placing a hand over Faith's eyes. "Kiss," he mouthed at John.

Looking utterly bored, John looked at Callum. "Cal, how many girlfriends do you have?"

"Four," the almost five year old replied without hesitation. "Wait…" his brow furrowed. "Yeah," he decided with a nod. "Don't like Amy, she thinks mud's dirty," he scoffed.

Four?

Girlfriends?

Sherlock wasn't exactly sure how to deal with that information. Girlfriends…

Not his area.

What if they asked for advice?

"See," John said, leaning back against the counter. "They're kids, it's hardly serious when Callum's complaining about that sort of thing."

Sherlock distinctly remembered ending a half-hearted attempt at a relationship before John when the omega had deemed his experiments to be 'foul' and 'filthy'.

Callum's criteria didn't sound that far from the mark.

"What about later on?" Sherlock demanded, shifting Faith in his arms and trying to push past the unpleasant idea of any of his children dating at this age. "What if you encourage this now and they end up with a harem?"

"Credit to them," John muttered, a smile pulling at his mouth.

"Do you want them earning a nickname, Three Continents?" Sherlock demanded, thinking of that awful nickname John's army mates still on occasion used.

John snorted, "Like they'll manage that. They're half yours; they'll be far too good at being 'individual'."

"I could have earned a nickname like that," Sherlock protested, ruffled.

"You're an alpha," John said, folding his arms. "How would you have managed that? Though if anyone could manage to be possessive about that many people-"

"How many people?" Sherlock questioned suddenly.

John finally faltered.

"What's a continent?" Callum asked, peeking between them like one watching a tennis match.

"You explain," Sherlock threw at John.

"It's a land mass," John said, smiling at him in triumph. "Like a way of sectioning up the world and joining some countries together."

"Oh," Callum nodded. "Because Dad says you're the world."

Oh for…the boy needed to quote properly. He had said John was his entire world, not that John was the world.

Though he supposed the distinction wouldn't affect Callum's misunderstanding. Opposite him, John smirked.

"Where's your sister?" Sherlock asked Faith, looking at her inquisitive little face. "One of your parents should be able to explain the positive side of chastity."

John actually giggled. "Do you need a book to help you with the sex talk?"

No.

What? No. He wasn't going to have the sex talk. That wasn't happening. His daughter was never going to have that talk. Ever. Or have sex.

Ever.

"What's sex?" Callum asked.

"Ask your father, it's his area of expertise," Sherlock snapped.

John did a mock bow, still looking amused. "Are you saying it's not yours?" he asked with a cheeky grin that was usually found on their eldest son's face.

Child.

* * *

"But he has nice hair," Teagan argued. "And he gave me a Rolo. That means he likse me a lot," she added, as if Sherlock might be confused.

Which he was, but that was hardly the point.

"That does not obligate you to do what he says," Sherlock said seriously. "Just because someone gives you something does not mean you are indebted to them."

His daughter, snuggled against his chest on his lap, peered up at him. "What's that mean?" she asked.

"That…they don't have the right to boss you around."

Teagan nodded thoughtfully at that.

* * *

"Teagan, go to bed," John said with a sigh as Teagan wandered into the kitchen.

"No."

Sherlock, thinking on the sofa, had an awful premonition that something bad was about to happen. And worse, John might be able to link it back to him.

Sitting up slowly, he glanced at the two. At John's baffled stare and Teagan's determined stance.

"I'm sorry?" John asked her slowly.

"No. I don't have to do what you tell me just because you give me things."

Ah.

This was not going to end well. For him. Never mind it was Teagan's fault for taking their conversation out of context.

There was only one thing to do.

Sneak out.

Standing quietly, Sherlock made his way to the door.

"So," John said and Sherlock winced. He hadn't even made it to reaching distance of the doorknob and already John was using the tone he reserved especially for Sherlock. "You decided that to educate our daughter about relationships you would tell her to refuse to do things because other people ask?"

Why it was that John was fantastic at deducing Sherlock and yet clueless at crime scenes, Sherlock would never know. It seemed terribly unfair.

"She got it wrong," Sherlock argued, turning back.

"No I didn't," Teagan said, scowling at him. "Daddy gives me dinner and then tells me to go to bed. I don't have to do thing I don't want to do just because you say so and give me food."

Behind her John closed his eyes, then jabbed a finger fiercely at Sherlock and then at Teagan.

_You sort this out._

"You have taken it out of context," Sherlock started to say.

"No I haven't. I haven't been out since we had a chat," Teagan said earnestly.

Sherlock had absolutely no answer. "It was a joke," he decided, looking at her. "I was playing a trick on your father. Ignore everything that I said."

Teagan scowled. "You shouldn't play jokes on people. It's not nice," she said, scolding him.

He'd remind her of that the next time she hid Phin's teddy in the basement.

* * *

That night, Phin, who had come down with a cold and had been sniffing all day, woke up asking for him so Sherlock obediently fetched his youngest down to sit on his lap as he studied the blood samples.

Phin was the only one who would call for him instead of John and there was something brilliant about that. What was even better was that John didn't seem too upset by it, instead taking the chance to catch up on some sleep.

"You don't have any girlfriends or boyfriends, do you?" Sherlock asked his son as hazel eyes sleepily watched his movements.

"Yuck," Phin said with a little yawn and then a sneeze, as if displaying his disgust at the idea all at once.

"Good boy," Sherlock muttered, stroking a hand through the silky brown hair. "You'll be the smartest one," he said gently. "Not distracted because you inherited Daddy's libido."

Behind him he could feel John's eyes on them as his omega walked over. "Really?" John murmured in his ear. "Not interested then?"

Amused, Sherlock turned to nuzzle at John. "He's not falling asleep," he said with a sigh. "Are you?" he asked Phin.

"Want Dad," Phin said, with a suspicious glare at John.

"Stop fascinating him," John suggested, pressing a kiss to Sherlock's hair and stroking Phin's cheek.

No.

He was far too addicted to the wonder and awe in their little eyes to do that. He wanted to be as fascinating to them as they were to him.

John sat with them, stroking Phin's hair evenly and resting his head on Sherlock's shoulder as he leaned over them. Soon enough, Phin's eyes started to droop and his head fell heavily on Sherlock's chest.

"Come to bed," John suggested standing up as their son started to snore.

"They can't grow up that fast," Sherlock suddenly stated, turning to him. "Teagan cannot have boyfriends yet. I can't have missed that much."

"Oh Sherlock," John said with a smile. "I think we have a good few years yet before she is serious about anyone. Besides," he added when Sherlock almost sighed in frustration, "she's so much like you that what makes you think anyone will be good enough for her high expectations."

"True," Sherlock nodded slowly. "But you started young."

"I had fun," John corrected. "Consensual, safe and suppressor doused fun. And non-penetrative," he added. "What's wrong with that?"

"I'm not as sensible as you," Sherlock complained. "What if-"

"They're our kids Sherlock. Which means they should have the brains and the dire problem of being raised by a doctor and a detective; they'll bloody well know the dangers if I have to march them to the clinic to show STI's and to your crime scenes to show stupidity."

"I never take on the stupid cases," Sherlock muttered.

"Make an exception," John suggested.

Sherlock considered that as he looked down at Phin's peacefully sleeping face. "I want to scare their boyfriends and girlfriends," he announced. "Make sure they have some guts and are interesting enough."

"Good. Me too," John said and then nodded his head at the door. "You coming?"

_Yes._

* * *

Hope you enjoyed.


	2. Alphas and Omegas

Alphas and Omegas

* * *

"We're going to have a cousin," Faith announced as Sherlock walked through the door.

Doubtfully, he raised an eyebrow at his six year old daughter. "You have met your Aunt and Uncle? It's hard to pick which of them are more distasteful to breed with."

"I want a boy cousin," Phin announced, winding around Sherlock's feet in a cat like manner that he knew annoyed his father. The only reason the boy did it was because he knew Sherlock had a low threshold of patience for it and would eventually pick him up. "Daddy said it might be," he added pointedly.

"Your sister procreated then?" Sherlock asked as John appeared from the kitchen and threw the twins pyjamas at them with a pointed glare.

"They weren't there when we looked," Phin lied solemnly, sighing at the sight of his pyjama bottoms by his feet.

Faith just smiled sweetly and happily started to strip.

His children were all such exhibitionists. He had no idea where they got it from.

"Try again," John said, not sounding that happy about the whole affair.

Mycroft?

"Whoever told you that is utterly wrong," Sherlock replied as he stepped closer to his mate. "Really, the whole idea-"

"Mycroft told me the happy news this morning. In front of Callum. So the entirety of Greenvale School and Baker Street now knows," John grit his teeth together.

"Mycroft has a strange sense of humour-" Sherlock started to dismiss.

"Yeah, like being tricked into being present during a young omega's heat and getting him pregnant. Stupid idiot," John hissed, shaking his head. "The kid's twenty one years old. Twenty one," he turned to Sherlock. "He's old enough to be my son, let alone Mycroft's."

Wait…

"Mycroft has….spawned?" Sherlock asked, horrified. "And…" he winced at the idea of his brother engaging in any form of coitus. "I want nothing to do with the situation," he decided, stalking into the kitchen.

"Oh, it gets better," John said, following him. "I get to be the model omega as I'm the only one in the Holmes family at the moment to welcome him to the insanity that is all of you." He sat down heavily at the table and stared morosely at the wood.

This was hardly right; it was Sherlock's brother that had been the pain so why was John acting hard done by?

"Won't it be…pleasant to have another omega around?"

John slowly looked up. "Be kidding," he said with a glare. "He's a purebred omega, born for marriage and breeding. Do you have any idea how boring this is going to be?"

Completely wrong. Confused, Sherlock reached for the kettle, trying to work out what to do next.

"Well…" he sniffed slightly. "At least Mycroft's child won't hold a candle to our children."

John pulled a face, "That was never going to happen," he muttered.

Completely wrong.

* * *

For the first time in his life, Archibald Forrester felt adrift.

Utterly adrift.

Mycroft Holmes wasn't the kind of man he'd intended to bond with, but he wasn't all bad. He had a quiet, calming manner to him and was a breath of focus in a chaotic world.

But he was also a busy man, a very controlled man and extremely cautious. Archie could only vaguely remember the heat they had spent together and it was hard to piece together the lust fuelled images of his alpha with the cool demeanour of his husband.

They were going to have a child. A baby. Archie had studied his stomach often enough that he thought he could see the faintest bump appearing.

Once the baby came, things would be different. Better.

"You are prepared?"

Mycroft made it sound as if they were entering into battle, not going to visit Mycroft's brother's family. There were two nephews and two nieces to meet and a fellow omega to impress.

Everyone he'd met talked about John Watson with awe.

Nervous, Archie nodded.

* * *

Thirty minutes later he was certain they had surely walked into the wrong building.

"Oh," a brown haired boy of about five or six rolled his eyes as he constructed a tower of Lego. "You," he said dismissively to Mycroft.

"Your father has been teaching you his version of a polite greeting I see," Mycroft replied, looking utterly unfazed by the hello. "How are you today Phin?"

"Daddy's mad at you," Phin studied the bricks in his hand and then the tower. "Dad's not sure what to do with it."

Mycroft shifted uncomfortably. "And where is your-"

"Phin! I swear to God if you have started playing downstairs when the others have been tidying I will hang you out the window like a flag for bad behaviour," a voice bellowed with impressive volume.

"Awesome," the boy sprung up eagerly and ran up the stairs. "Can I go head first?" he asked cheerfully. "And Callum doesn't get a go," he added, vanishing from their line of sight.

Horrified, Archie turned to Mycroft. "I…that was your nephew?"

"He idolises my brother," Mycroft murmured with an odd smile. "Shall we?"

Archie stared up the stairs. "Was that your brother? Calling?"

"Hmm? Oh no, that was John."

John? The omega everyone was so in awe of was a man who threatened to hang his son out the window? Omegas were meant to nurture, to be a calming presence-

There wasn't an ounce of calm the moment they walked through the flat door.

"Uncle Mycroft," a sunny haired little girl ran over. Mycroft lifted her up easily as she peered at Archie. "Is this my new Uncle?" she asked eagerly.

"Do you have a baby in you?" asked another voice. A boy a little older, maybe seven or eight with dark hair peered up at him curiously. "How big is it?"

"I-" Archie floundered.

"Well when did you have sex?" An even older girl with wild hair asked, as if Archie might be stupid.

"Uh-"

"Ask Daddy if you're not sure. Dad says he's the expert on sex. They had a fight about it last week because Daddy said Dad was a prude," the dark haired boy told him. "I think that's a fruit-"

"Prude, not prune," the omega holding Phin in the kitchen corrected easily. "Ah, Mycroft. Taken a break from cradle robbing I see." The omega glared at Archie's mate.

"I expect that from my brother, John. Not from you," Mycroft let the blond girl wriggle down.

"Then that's your stupid fault," John replied before he returned his attention to Phin. "No jumping out of windows," he said to the boy seriously. "Daddy was being stupid. He forgot just how much like your Dad you are."

The boy beamed, as if that were his only aim in life.

"And where is my esteemed brother today?" Mycroft asked.

"On a case," the dark haired girl announced. "There was a murder," she added with a pleased note in her voice.

"A murder?" Archie looked at them all. "Should the children know about that?"

The entire family turned to him, as if baffled by his words.

As if he were the one who was stark raving mad.

* * *

Archie curled up on the bed.

Alone.

Mycroft had allowed him a separate bed, or rather insisted upon it, with an odd look on his face.

What had happened in that flat? Mycroft, the man who knew all the proper manners, the best wine and the art of conversation had thrown himselfinto the chaos with gusto. There had even been a look on his face that suggested he enjoyed the trading of insults with John Watson.

Though every time John had made some reference to Archie or his age, Mycroft had flinched.

Was that what Mycroft wanted? An omega that didn't act like an omega, children that were wild and asked a thousand questions every minute.

He wanted to be a good mate, a good omega. Mycroft was an important man, a good man and one that Archie thought he might love one day but…the idea of that, of trying to recreate what he had seen at Baker Street was terrifying.

* * *

The second heat together was careful. Mycroft seemed worried about something, hesitant and trying to control himself.

It wasn't the wild rutting he'd heard about, the frantic desperation.

What if Mycroft didn't want him?

* * *

The children came and stayed with them the following week when it was John and Sherlock's heat. Archie still hadn't met Mycroft's brother and, from all that he had heard, wasn't sure he wanted to.

An alpha that left his pregnant mate and offspring alone for nearly three years?

It was like heresy.

Anthea, a woman who Archie was almost sure might be a robot she was so efficient, had looked after the children for most of the day which made Archie feel even more…useless.

He was an omega, he was meant to raise children and cope with them. But the Holmes children were terrifyingly precocious.

No wonder Mycroft didn't really want him.

* * *

That night, thirsty, Archie wandered down to get some water and paused in the living room doorway.

Teagan and Callum were sitting in Mycroft's lap chatting to him.

"-going to call the baby?"

"We don't know yet," Mycroft said gently.

"But what is it?" Teagan demanded. "Because I want it to be a girl. We need more girls," she said seriously.

Callum giggled and from the angle Archie was stood at, he could see the little boy snuggle under Mycroft's chin. "Could you change it?" he asked Mycroft, "if it was a girl, just to annoy her?"

Mycroft sounded amused when he replied. "That would be terribly petty of me. Don't get me confused with your father."

"Would Dad have changed any of us?" Callum asked curiously.

"No," Mycroft said gently. "Your father would have had half a dozen more of you though."

Teagan and Callum seemed to exchange a look. "That's a silly idea," Teagan announced. "They've just got worse since me."

Archie felt his lips twitch as he watched Mycroft actually laugh at that. "Of all of you children, you are the most like your father," Mycroft said to her with such fondness that Archie smiled at the sound.

"Phin is," Callum corrected stubbornly. "He and Daddy always say that."

"Who do you think the baby will be like?" Teagan asked.

"It should be like Archie," Callum insisted. "We need someone to be like him."

"I hope so," Mycroft said turning his head to look at Archie. "I do hope so."

Suddenly feeling as if he were welcome, Archie dared to go in and sit opposite them. The kids watched him calmly and Callum wriggled off of Mycroft's lap and bounded over.

"Can I sit next to you," he asked, suddenly stopping himself. "Daddy said I had to ask, in case the baby was wriggling or making you uncomfortable."

"Of course you can," Archie patted the pace next to him on the sofa. "Why would I be uncomfortable?"

"Ah," Mycroft smiled. "John wasn't the most patient soul when pregnant."

Both Teagan and Callum shook their heads solemnly at that. "Dad tells us the stories sometimes."

"Daddy was so annoyed with him when they found out Callum was coming along that he gave me to Dad at a crime scene."

"Lucky," Callum muttered enviously, snuggling close to Archie.

"I'm sure he wasn't annoyed-" Archie hastened to say.

"No, he was," Callum turned to look up at Archie earnestly, "Daddy says that he loves me very much but I have Dad's sense of timing."

The boy seemed perfectly happy about it though. Smiling, Archie dared to put an arm around him.

Callum's smile turned into a supernova and he pressed in as close as he could. "Can I touch the baby?" he asked, looking up.

Archie nodded and then blinked when Callum took that as permission to wriggle his hand underneath Archie's dressing gown and pyjama top to touch his stomach.

"It's not doing anything," Callum complained.

"It's very small at the moment," Mycroft explained gently. When Archie glanced up, Teagan had completely taken over Mycroft's lap and was watching sleepily.

"Like the twins were?" she asked.

A shadow crossed Mycroft's face, he frowned and shook his head. "But the baby's still in Uncle Archie's stomach so it's safe and healthy."

"Daddy said the twins could fit in the palm of his hand they were so small," Callum told Archie. "So don't let the baby come out early," he added, as if Archie might have been confused about that.

"I won't," Archie promised. Across from him, Mycroft looked away.

* * *

"I talked to my cousin," Phin announced to John. "In Uncle Archie's tummy."

Archie had managed a whole morning with the four of them and stood, feeling nervous again, at the sight of John who had lifted Phin into his arms.

"Where's Dad?" Phin asked, peering over his shoulder.

"Seriously?" John asked, craning his head back to meet Phin's eyes. "You haven't seen me for five days and all you care about is Dad? You remember who feeds you at night."

"Dad gets better takeaway than you do," Phin said frankly.

John rolled his eyes and tipped the boy backwards, eliciting a delighted shriek from Phin.

"The other brats?" John asked, as if he hadn't just adjusted his grip on Phin and wasn't holding the boy by his ankles and letting him dangle down.

"Uh…the playroom," Archie said, trying not to gape at the sight. The entire weekend had seen Phin sulking and being bloody difficult. It was like watching a different child.

"Playroom?" John blinked.

"Can we move it home?" Phin asked, trying to peer up at his father. "It's way bigger than the one at home."

John lifted the boy up, showing a certain amount of strength as he raised Phin until they were almost eye-level. "Do we need to have a discussion about how space and rooms are moved?"

"Dr Who manages it," Phin scolded him. "So Uncle Mycroft can."

John rolled his eyes. "Your Uncle is not a miracle worker. Your father will sulk if you keep believing this."

Phin grinned. "Dad's fun when he sulks."

John let him down and placed the child on his feet. "You are so indoctrinated, it's untrue," he muttered. "Go on, go and find the others."

Phin nodded and dashed off.

"Were they all right?" John asked, leaning against the wall.

"Yeah," Archie nodded.

"Didn't accidently throttle any of them then?"

"Of course not," Archie protested, "I'd never-" he broke off when he saw John sigh.

"I was joking," John said, shaking his head.

Oh. Right, of course.

They stood awkwardly together.

"So, enjoying the pregnancy?" John asked.

"Yeah, I love it," Archie said brightly, cupping the bump.

John flickered his eyes down and then looked back up. "Really?" he asked, pulling a face.

"Of course," Archie said blinking.

John stared, as if doubtful that Archie was telling the truth. "Seriously?"

"Yes," Archie shifted, a little defensive.

"Oh."

"Why wouldn't I? I can't wait to meet the baby. I already love it."

John suddenly flinched and stared at him with an odd look on his face. "Yeah, right."

"Daddy!" Faith shrieked, running over to John and launching herself at him. John scooped her up mid-air and lifted her into a hug. "Are you and Dad normal again?"

"As close to it as we get," John said, smoothing her hair. "You've lost a tooth," he said smiling.

Had she?

How did he pick up on that? Archie hadn't even realised.

"The tooth fairy must have got lost," Faith said sweetly.

"Did you save it?" John asked.

"I think Phin and Callum buried it," Faith sighed. "Will the tooth fairy put my money there?"

"Depends on how clever the fairy is," John said seriously. "Fingers crossed."

* * *

The house suddenly seemed so quiet.

Maybe having children a little bit like his nephews and nieces wouldn't be so bad.

Could be quite fun actually.

* * *

Archie was six months pregnant by the time he had the 'pleasure' of Sherlock Holmes' company.

The man broke into Mycroft's office and then sighed in disdain when Archie peeked around the door.

"Oh," he rolled his eyes. "You."

It was far more biting coming from an adult alpha than a five year old child.

"Why are you in here?" Archie asked meekly.

Sherlock paused, stared at him and then shook his head, muttering under his breath.

"You…can I help?"

"My husband would have booted Mycroft out the door by now if the situations were reversed," Sherlock pulled out a drawer and seemed to tip it out just for the hell of it. "And I would be watching with great delight. You wish to help? Empty that file cabinet."

"I…" Never, ever before had Archie disobeyed an alpha's direct order.

"Dull."

* * *

At eight months pregnant it was hard to climb stairs, but it was John's birthday and they said they would pop in. Mycroft followed behind, a gentle hand ready to support him if he needed it.

When they got to the top of the stairs, the kids were all piled on the chairs and watching something that made all of them smile.

"-I swear to God you have done this on purpose-"

"Why would I do it on purpose? I didn't know they would knock the box over. Why aren't you yelling at them?"

"They didn't bring it into the house!"

"It isn't poison, John. It's-"

"Poison! Just because it didn't come wrapped in a label with a skull and crossbones on, doesn't mean it isn't lethal."

"I need to catch that dog!"

"Don't kill the dog," Faith scolded, leaning forward.

Mycroft pulled Archie back a little. "Sherlock when you say poison-"

"It isn't poison-"

"It's poison," John corrected.

"Do you need us to take the children?"

Teagan turned to them. "It's cake," she said with a funny look on her face. "Just don't eat the cake."

Huh?

They edged around the door and peered at the pair. A cake was splattered across the floor, John stood with a mop that looked more like it was about to be used as a sword and Sherlock was standing in the middle of the kitchen with his hands on his hips looking utterly unrepentant.

The kids were actually sharing a packet of crisps as they watched.

"Sherlock…I am sure I will regret asking, but why did you poison the cake?"

"I needed to catch the dog," Sherlock threw up his hands. "I am bored of explaining this."

"How would John's cake catch a dog?" Archie asked, keeping his distance from the cake.

"Huh?" John turned, baffled. "You think he buys me a cake on my birthday?"

Sherlock froze, winced and closed his eyes before turning to fold his arms and glare at the children.

"Oh," Teagan swallowed her crisp. "It's Daddy's birthday today."

"How helpful," Sherlock snapped. "You have no idea what you have done-"

"No, I think they do," John said, shoving the mop at Sherlock. "You made a deal. Every time you forget a birthday, you clean. Remember? Because it's how you show affection apparently."

"I said that years ago," Sherlock muttered unhappily. Raising an eyebrow, John reached out and knocked over a glass of orange juice.

"Nice and clean Sherlock. And not poisoning any more food."

"I sincerely hope you all remember this next time," Sherlock said, pointing the mop at the children. "I am not here for your amusement and I will not do experiments with any of you for a week."

"Well we won't let you do any with us for two weeks," Faith argued, folding her arms.

Callum laughed and collapsed back. "Maybe even three."

As if sensing he might be losing that argument Sherlock frowned. "I do not clean," Sherlock complained, rounding on John. "I am an alpha!"

John paused, turned and folded his arms, staring at Sherlock.

For almost a full twenty five seconds they stared at each other, then Sherlock sighed and lowered the mop. "I have no idea how to use this," he muttered.

"You're a quick learner," John said. "Dustpan and brush first, burn the poison, then mop."

Archie glanced at Mycroft who was watching Sherlock with a fond look. There was no embarrassment in his face; Archie knew enough alpha family leaders who would have been horrified with what was happening in the kitchen.

Instead, Mycroft seemed on the verge of joining the kids on the sofa. Almost absently, his arm wrapped around Archie and pulled him close so that Archie could rest his head on Mycroft's shoulder.

It was good to be held by him like this, and it was happening more and more now.

"The what?"

"The dustpan…" John threw up his hands. "Will you stop deleting the cleaning equipment!"

"They aren't necessary," Sherlock argued.

John let out an irritated noise and yanked open a cupboard, almost throwing the dustpan at Sherlock. "Do you need instructions as well?"

Sherlock chucked it back at him and John caught it. "I do not need your instructions," Sherlock said haughtily.

"Then on your knees," John suggested, tossing it back again.

"Stop throwing it at me," Sherlock threw it back.

"Start using it then," John replied, chucking it again.

"This is getting repetitive," Mycroft muttered and handed the present to Faith. "Give that to your father would you? Once they've finished their foreplay."

* * *

It shouldn't have worked. When it came down to it, John Watson threatened, shouted and made fun of his children constantly. But they were all just mad enough that it seemed to work, somehow. Archie had seen John almost heft a beta up by the throat when one had been cruel to Teagan, had seen the way he was aware of each and every child at any point of the day. They all reached for him when they were upset and John lifted them into his arms without a pause in what he was doing.

By the time Archie was ready to give birth he was in awe of John too.

"You really survived without your alpha for three years?" he asked quietly.

"Two and a half," John corrected absently as they sat at Callum's football game. He gave the boy a thumbs up as Callum made a rather interesting tackle.

"How?"

John blinked and looked at Archie. "Uh…Dunno. I…I suppose when you get that little thing in your arms…you're not an omega anymore. You're a parent and all that comes with it. What else could I do but go on? I had four kids that needed me to get up in the morning."

"And you weren't tempted to have an alpha again?"

John smiled an odd smile. "Very few people walk into my house and want to stay. And Sherlock drives me mad as a hatter, but after that…nothing compares. And I made no secret of that." He seemed to hesitate for a moment and the focused his gaze on Archie. "I did. Once."

Huh? Archie blinked at him. "You…did you-"

John let out a long sigh. "I…two years afterwards and Faith had an ear infection, Callum went through a phase of not going to sleep and Phin was tantruming…I…I signed onto a website. I just…I was at the end of my tether."

Archie stared at the man he was half sure might be God himself in disguise some days, stunned at the admission. "What happened?"

"I met a few…they'd talk about what they expected from family life, from married life and…" John shook his head. "I love my kids and I love Sherlock, but Jesus the life that they described wasn't for me. And it wasn't for any child of Sherlock Holmes."

"You must have been relieved when he came back," Archie murmured, unable to imagine it.

"Three months afterwards, when I calmed down," John said sounding almost amused. "I…I know what some people see when they see my family-"

"Callum just cheated," Archie pointed out.

John rolled his eyes and darted his gaze to Callum. Whatever was in his eyes made the boy roll his own, exactly the same way John had just done and then nod with a grin.

"I don't know where he gets that from," John muttered, shaking his head. "But…yeah. I know they think we're nuts and unruly but I love it. And I thought I wouldn't have it again for years. But…" he looked at Archie seriously. "I look at you and sometimes I seethe with envy because you are the perfect omega."

Archie laughed. "You must be joking."

"I cook meals from the frozen section at Tescos. Or I use Sherlock's tried and tested method of takeaways. I can't sew unless it's skin, I'm a stubborn git who won't back down and I can usually add to the chaos. You just…I was not born to be a parent. You were."

Idiot.

But Archie had a sneaky suspicion that saying what he wanted to say wouldn't mean anything to John, coming from him.

* * *

The last heat before the baby was born was gentle, careful and delicious.

It was also brought on by sex outside of a heat.

"You're worried," Mycroft murmured gently, in between bouts. "About the baby?"

"I…" Archie snuggled into him. "I just…I don't want to disappoint you," he confessed. "I've seen how John does it and-"

Mycroft let out an odd chuckle. "I love my brother in law dearly, but the idea of going home to that every night? Fights and spats and chaos? Sherlock loves it, lives for it and so does John but…" he turned to press his face into Archie's hair. "You're calming, soothing. You make the world quieten down and pause, just for a bit."

"And…you like that?"

Mycroft smiled at him and pulled back. "I love it."

Pleased, Archie lifted his head to kiss him. "I love you," he said simply, feeling utterly at home; safe and secure.

Mycroft cupped a hand over their child and let out a content noise.

Sometimes, saying what the matter was always made things better. And, though part of him trembled at the idea, it seemed Archie might have to have a rather long discussion with Sherlock about something.

Once his stomach had settled.

* * *

"I almost like my brother in law," Sherlock announced.

"Good for you," John yawned absently. "Did you leave gone off toes in the cats bowl?"

"Did it work?"

"Oh yeah. Sick everywhere, bloody thing," John groused and then sighed as Sherlock curled up on the bed behind him. "Why do you like Archie then?"

"You went on dates while I was dead."

Ah.

"Well, he's not my favourite person right now," John muttered. "And, before you start, may I remind you that I forgave you for the last part of that sentence?"

"Oh, as if I care about that." Sherlock dismissed, "I'm the only person who has knotted you and I do it very well-"

Oh for the days when Sherlock had been unsure about such things and had expressed a hint of humility.

John could practically feel the proud look Sherlock shot at the old bite mark on John's nape.

"Get to the point then," John muttered.

"You were born to be the father of my children," Sherlock bit at his ear. "No-one else could have dealt with my offspring."

John let himself smile a little.

"And Archie thought I should say that, rather than him. He thought it would mean more."

Maybe the idiot was forgiven, just a bit.

"And he did give birth to my nephew an hour ago."

"Priorities, Sherlock," John sighed, turning to his mate. "Healthy?"

Sherlock eyed him suspiciously. "You don't want to see him, right? Tristan hardly compares to our children-"

"Tristan?"

"I have been informed that we cannot talk about names, given the way Teagan gained her name."

John laughed and turned to his mate. "At least it's a funny story," he argued. He cuddled in close and Sherlock obediently allowed John to rearrange them until they were curled up with each other.

"Why would you doubt your parenting abilities?" Sherlock asked suddenly. "You never seemed to have before?"

"I…" John stroked Sherlock's collarbone thoughtfully as his head rested on the other shoulder. "I…Archie's so calm and he made things with the kids-"

"We make things with the kids," Sherlock argued.

"Arts and crafts, Sherlock. Not moulds of teeth marks."

As if he couldn't see the distinction, Sherlock shrugged. "Why is that important?" he asked, sounding as if he were frowning at the idea.

"He…" John wriggled a little and sighed. "He's the perfect omega, Sherlock. And I'm…"

"Not?"

John smiled weakly. "No."

"You are a terrible omega," Sherlock said after a moment. "You argue, you make my protective instincts obsolete most of the time, you make me clean-"

"I know," John agreed, curling in a little more.

"You're interesting," Sherlock said in a sneaky voice. "Far more interesting than any normal omega. And a brilliant parent. To our children. You might traumatise a normal, boring child."

John huffed out a laugh. "You'd traumatise them more. What the hell are we going to do when Mycroft asks us to take Tristan during their heats?"

"Mrs Hudson?" Sherlock asked hopefully. "With those two as his parents, our nephew is likely to be as perfectly normal as one can be. Or," he added as if an idea had suddenly occurred to him. "We could try to save him from the tedious life he is about to embark upon and steal him every so often. My genes must be in there somewhere-"

"Think about the reverse," John warned.

Sherlock pulled a face. "I still say we should attempt to corrupt him."

"I think we could probably manage that with very little effort…" John frowned. "So your sudden fondness for Archie came from him telling you something I asked him to keep in confidence."

"You didn't actually," Sherlock said frankly. "He would have looked far more uncomfortable had he been spilling something you had actually requested be kept quiet. And it wasn't just that. He told Mycroft off."

Really? John raised his head. "You sure?"

"I informed Archie that Mycroft had a history of dropping things as a child and my brother took that opportunity to almost trip up over that ostentatious fireplace of his."

"With the baby?"

"With the brandy," Sherlock shook his head as if that were far worse. "He then went to pick the baby up. Archie rather haughtily informed him that Mycroft was not allowed to hold Tristan after having a sip of celebratory brandy. When I left my brother was still trying to talk him round."


	3. Faith and Phin

Faith and Phin

Faith and Phin settle into secondary school

* * *

**Faith**

Being twins was sort of helpful, Faith thought on the first day of secondary school. It meant you had someone to sit next to when you were in a room of people you didn't know, that you had someone to talk to and someone to back you up.

"Faith-" the teacher paused at the register and peered over the computer.

"Ah, more Holmes children."

Faith nearly sunk in her seat as Phin grinned wolfishly.

They both knew what that meant.

More dealings with Sherlock Holmes.

"Faith?"

Reluctantly, Faith put her hand up. "Yes miss."

"And Phinneas?"

Phin said nothing.

"Young man?" The teacher said, looking at Phin.

"It's Phin," her brother sulked, glaring at the woman. "No-one calls me Phinneas."

Apart from Daddy when he was bellowing it from the top of his lungs.

"And you two are the last I believe?" the teacher said, about to move down the list.

"We have cousins," Phin told her with glee. "Three. Another on the way. They're coming here too. But you'll be retired by that point. Well…they'll call it that."

"I'm sorry?" the teacher asked in an iron tone.

"They'll be looking for any excuse. You have no other responsibility and even bad teachers get those so you must be-

"I wouldn't finish that sentence-"

"-shockingly shit."

Faith winced, even as she tried not to smile at the memory of Daddy using the phrase for Dad's ability to apologise.

Slowly the class went silent and Faith sunk even more into her seat as the teacher stood.

"Well, it appears we will be having the pleasure of your fathers sooner rather than later this term."

* * *

**Phin**

The headmaster's office wasn't as interesting as Phin had hoped it would be. For one, it needed a good coat of paint, for another it was really rather plain.

"This is your first hour of your first day," Mr William sighed. "I was hoping you would make it until at least tomorrow."

"I wanted to meet you," Phin said frankly. "You're the most important part of the school, I should get to meet you on my first day."

It was annoying that Teagan and Callum had gone first. Teagan had met with the headmaster in the first month after getting locked in the science Lab with Reece Lestrade as they tried to find a way to make a girl's hair fall out because she wouldn't stop shoving her tongue down Jamie Lestrade's throat. Then Cal had been in on his first week because he had upset every single one of his friends by refusing to name anyone as his best friend and had decided that the way to prove you were someone's best friend was to be happy to die for them.

That, in Phin's opinion, had been brilliant. Four children had tried to 'prove' themselves before Cal was hauled in and then let off without so much as a scolding because Mr Williams hadn't quite managed to match Cal's flawless logic.

"Well…" Mr Williams nodded. "I suppose that's fair. You could have just asked to see me."

"Dull," Phin said shaking his head. "And everyone would think I was being a suck-up. Suck-up's get bullied," he added, in case Mr Williams wasn't too clear on this. "As do know-it-alls. I'd prefer not to get doubly beaten up."

Mr Williams raised a hand to his mouth, covering it as he regarded Phin. "Well, that's wise of you, I suppose," he said after a moment. "But no-one should be getting beaten up."

"It adds character," Phin shrugged. "I think I would like to be beaten up a little bit."

There was a very long pause. "Do you know who else would be good for you to meet?" Mr Williams said reaching out for the phone. "The school psychiatrist. I'll just see if she's free."

"Probably best to get it out of the way now," Phin agreed calmly.

Mr Williams still looked as if he didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "You say you have three more cousins?" he asked as he waited for the other end to pick up.

Phin nodded. "Tristan, Oscar, Philip and bump."

Mr Williams' brow furrowed. "Bump?"

"It's not born yet," Phin helped him out. "My Daddy says that Uncle Mycroft is going to struggle to name the next one, unless he's planning on having another two."

"Really?" Mr Williams' fingers were tapping the phone now. "Why's that."

"'cause then he could spell out top dog."

It took painfully long for Mr Williams to work it out before he winced.

* * *

"You went to the headmaster, the school therapist and then on report in one day?" Daddy asked, folding his arms.

"Beat Cal and Tiggie," Phin added with a nod.

Daddy tapped his foot then rounded on Dad. "If you congratulate him, so help me you'll be on the sofa for a month."

Dad looked utterly unimpressed. "By now, John, it would be more likely to work if I was actually allowed in the bed on occasion."

"You blew up the-" Daddy cut himself off and turned back to Phin. "Do not deduce the teachers, do not announce that you want to try getting beaten up and do not tell any more therapists that your father helped you set light to your sister's hair without mentioning it was not attached to her head."

Admittedly, that had been a slight error of judgement.

* * *

Being on report was so dull.

He had to take his list of three targets to his teachers and get them to sign whether he'd met them at the end of each lesson.

And the teachers seemed so thick with it.

"But I wasn't respectful," Phin pointed out, frowning as the target was ticked. "I don't think you're a good teacher at all."

Mrs Murphy raised her head slowly.

* * *

Detention was even worse.

"I've finished my homework. And my classwork."

"Then do some research on a topic you're studying – you can go to the library and pick a book up. Just get back here within ten minutes."

He finished that quickly too.

* * *

Daddy was the worst though.

"It's just not getting through to him," Mr Williams sighed, leaning back in his chair. "We're running out of options."

Daddy gave Phin a long, long look that immediately made Phin tense nervously.

"My partner is the same," Daddy said in a deceptively light tone. "I know this will be against your policy with detentions and such but…" he trailed off and turned to Phin, raising a finger warningly. "If I have to come here more than once per term, I will personally ban you from science class due to religious issues. Got it?"

"What?" Phin cheeped, sitting up. "Dad wouldn't let you-"

Daddy just raised an eyebrow and Phin swallowed. "If you end up with more than five detentions per half term, I will not let you go out with your father at all during the holidays.

What?

He couldn't-

"And," Daddy said, turning back to Mr Williams. "When you do give him detention, you sit him in the corner and tell him to count the bricks on the wall."

Phin felt some shifting horror stir inside of him.

"We prefer them to do their homework-"

"Don't," Daddy said shaking his head. "He'll do it anyway. He likes learning. The worst punishment you can give Phin is boredom and, more than that, being made to miss out on what others are experiencing. He hates not knowing something."

"I hate you," Phin muttered, folding his arms and glaring at the desk.

"I know," Daddy said, sounding unbothered. "But still not as much as you hate missing out."

* * *

The science teacher was terrible.

But he really wanted to go out with Dad for an experiment or maybe even a case now that he was at secondary school.

"What's the answer?" Robyn hissed at him.

"C," Phin said blandly, glaring at the board which was currently showing the answer as A/C?

"She's rubbish," Jayden muttered. "Correct her," he hissed at Phin with glee.

Phin sank down, miserable.

* * *

Daddy was swearing under his breath as he cleaned up something that was burning the table. "Don't tell me," he said as Phin approached. "You hate me because I'm about to murder your father for this."

Daddy was such a nag sometimes. So what if the table was burned by the acid? Dad had needed it for looking at the dissolve rate of bone.

"If you have to go in to talk to the head again, could I just change school?" Phin asked, jutting out his chin.

Daddy paused and glanced up at him. "Is this your way of asking if you can do something against school policy or are you letting me know that I have a meeting coming up tomorrow because you've already done it?"

Phin let out an annoyed breath. "Mrs Murphy is rubbish."

Daddy's eyes narrowed. "The science teacher?" he asked.

"How do you know that?" Phin asked curiously.

"I asked." Daddy tossed the cloth in the sink and started to strip off the gloves he'd been wearing. "Why is she rubbish?" he asked calmly.

That was a surprise, Phin had thought he'd take more convincing than that. "She doesn't know the multiple choice answers. She keeps writing two or three on the board. Once she even wrote a question mark."

Daddy sat down with a sigh. "Phin…"

Great. He'd been so stupid to think that Daddy would be on his side-

"…did it ever occur to you to tell me this when you first had a problem with her?"

"I can handle it," Phin snapped.

"Clearly," Daddy said, giving him a look. "So…you've not said anything to her this week then, I take it?"

Phin shook his head. "Now no-one knows the answers cause I don't tell them anymore."

Daddy nodded and then stood. "You will be grounded for a year-"

No, that was not-

"-If you don't tell her where to go tomorrow if she does that again."

Slowly, the words sunk in.

"Seriously?" Phin asked with delight. "You want me to-"

"I assume the head will call me in," Daddy patted him on the head. "Try to make it after break time; I have a dentist's appointment tomorrow morning."

Phin bit his lip with glee. "I don't hate you all the time," he offered sweetly.

He got a swat on the head for that.

* * *

**Sherlock**

"Productive day?" Sherlock asked as he crawled into bed with John.

"Mm, got a teacher suspended, Phin might actually like me and I need a filling."

Sherlock absorbed that slowly.

"I could have got the teacher fired on the spot," he sulked slightly, curling up around his mate and nuzzling the old bite mark.

"Please, she was teaching science badly; you'd have been hauled up for assault. Especially as she was teaching mini you."

Phin?

"What do you mean she was teaching science badly?" Sherlock asked sitting up. "I checked that school and the teachers, I did a thorough survey-"

"Mrs Murphy?"

Oh, she'd been on Maternity leave. Sherlock settled back with a frown.

"And you're meant to be on the sofa."

"You didn't let me yell at a poor teacher," Sherlock muttered. "I'd say that negates the sofa policy."

"You act as if I'm doing you a great wrong," John sighed. "You love sleeping on that sofa. You used to tell me it was comfier than your bed."

"That was before you were in my bed."

The sentimental words worked and John turned to him with a smile. "Go on then," he said with a sigh.

"In a minute," Sherlock pressed a kiss to John's lips. "I'll be back in a minute."

* * *

Phin was curled up in bed. He and Callum seemed at opposite ends of the spectrum with the way they slept – Cal still could just fall forward, sprawled out and be asleep in minutes. Phin preferred to curl up and nest himself with blankets and pillows in a monstrous effort of pre-planning.

Amused, Sherlock stroked a hand over Phin's hair.

Not even a flicker showed on Phin's face.

The boy could sleep through anything.

Faith was awake though, and trying not to make it obvious.

"Any reason why you are pretending to be asleep?"

To her credit she didn't try to fake her way through it like Cal and Teagan would. The pair would try to make him give up before they woke. Instead she just sighed and shook her head.

Concerned, Sherlock walked over and sat at the edge of her bed, waiting.

He adored Faith's brain. Of all his children she was the quickest and the most absolute. But she would wait to make those judgements until utterly sure; as if worried of being wrong.

When she was older and her confidence had grown, his daughter might very well be better than him at her deductions. As John said, she had one thing that he and Mycroft lacked.

Faith didn't just see, she actually listened.

"Everyone at school is talking about Phin," she said slowly, turning to him properly and sitting up, her arms wrapping around her pyjama clad legs. "And…Cal's already a legend and Teagan's cool."

He waited.

"I'm…" she looked suddenly terrified. "Am I boring?"

Boring?

Stunned, he stared at her, not entirely sure he'd heard right.

"Because…" she bit her lip and glanced over at her brother. "I'm never just me. I'm always someone's sister and I never get in trouble or have any silly stories."

Sherlock leaned forward and picked her up, snuggling her on his lap as he wrapped the duvet around her to keep her warm.

"Who's in charge out of me and daddy?" he asked her slowly.

"Daddy," she said without hesitation or worry as to how he would take it.

"And would you say Daddy's more or less interesting than me?"

His daughter looked up at him thoughtfully. "Different," she decided after a minute. "You're both very interesting."

"And how many people notice Daddy at first when I'm around?"

Faith considered that seriously. "Less than thirty percent," she said seriously.

That agreed with his own observations. "Indeed. You are new to the school, idiots just need a bit longer to work such things out. Sometimes it takes longer to spot the really interesting things."

Faith smiled a little as she absorbed that. "But…do you ever wish I was more like the others?"

"Never," Sherlock said pressing a kiss to her hair. "You…Teagan is like me in most aspects, tempered with your father's good nature. In some ways I suppose she got the best of us. Though god knows where her squeamishness came from," he added with a shake of his head.

Faith looked up at him, seemingly fascinated.

"Cal…" Sherlock smiled. "He probably got the worst of us," he smiled. "But he is brilliant with it. Baffling," he added with a shake of his head as he thought of his son's logic as to why he'd had to skate down a flight of stairs last week, "but he has the ability to see the fun in life, which is an admirable quality."

"And Phin?" Faith prompted eagerly.

Phin was his secret terror. "Phin…is too much like me," Sherlock sighed. "One day…one day your brother will realise I am not someone to be admired and I'm not entirely sure how he'll react to that."

But that was perhaps a little too serious for their conversation now, Sherlock thought. "And you," he added, trying to lighten his tone. "You…you're your father, just with the Holmes brain. You're the only one that is more like him than me." He smiled as he pressed a long kiss to her forehead. "That will always make you special to me."

"But Cal-"

"You." Sherlock smiled at her. "You are also the only one who comes home happy and eager to share. Full of thought and love. I have no doubt if you were pushed, you would push back but do not compare yourself to your brothers and sister. You are different, that is all that needs to be said," Sherlock decided, laying her back down in the bed. "Now, go to sleep."

"Dad?"

"Yes?"

"If you had to hand over the detective business, who would you give it to?"

"None of you," Sherlock muttered. "It's mine, not yours. Find your own thing."

Faith giggled softly.

"But…" Sherlock paused at the door and turned to his daughter. "If I absolutely had to pick, I'd give you Daddy's job to help me."

Faith beamed at him. "Night Dad."

* * *

"You took ages," John muttered as Sherlock slipped back into bed. "I thought the sofa had tempted you."

"You smell better," Sherlock said softly. "I spilt sulphur on it."

"Ah, so that spiel earlier-" John said, amused.

"Was true, but I do have to use such things wisely."

John laughed and pushed closer to him.

"John?"

"Oh God, what else did you spill?" John groaned.

"No," Sherlock frowned. "If I had to give my job to one of the children, which one would you suggest it should be?"

John frowned, then opened his eyes, puzzled.

"None," John said after a moment. "Thankfully none of them are quite that much like you."

"What do you mean thankfully?" Sherlock muttered.

"Well…at least we won't have to worry about finding some patient kind soul who can shoot the person they piss off doing your job."

"You're hardly a martyr, John," Sherlock said, rolling his eyes. "And I could shoot people if I had to."

"Of course you could," John yawned. "But I'm better."

"Yes," Sherlock slid his hand down John's chest. "You are," he purred.

John turned to him with a smile.

* * *

Next Chapter: Forgiveness


	4. Forgiveness

Forgiveness

There was always a day that Sherlock Holmes feared.

Well…four days.

When his children asked him about his death.

* * *

Cal was the first.

At fifteen, Cal was quite possibly the bane of Sherlock's existence, if for no other reason than the fact that when he had the displeasure of having to question a teenager he was usually asked the question.

"You're Cal Holmes' dad, aren't you?"

It was insufferably annoying how his son seemed to be working his way around London. Between the end of school and dinner, Cal was nowhere to be seen until he suddenly appeared, school uniform ruffled, as he tried to steal food from John.

And the boy had suddenly grown.

Sherlock wasn't entirely sure what the boy had done to himself, but it seemed that Cal had shot up overnight some days. The little boy that had once easily been swept into Sherlock's arms, that had crawled over his lap to claim it from Phin and laughed because he was always quicker, had vanished and been replaced by a cocky, casual, grinning teenager that was far too popular for his own good.

Sherlock hated it.

They didn't quite see eye to eye. Cal and John had an easy relationship, both sharing the same sense of humour and Sherlock had an odd suspicion that Cal saw him as being too serious, too obsessive.

It gnawed at him sometimes.

Which was why he knew, just by looking at the teen standing alone at the police tapes one afternoon, that Cal knew.

"Sherlock?" Inspector Garrow asked, looking up. "Are you-"

"Going to let you attempt this unsupervised? Yes. Do try hard Inspector," Sherlock said, walking away from the scene.

Cal's hazel eyes tracked Sherlock as he approached, his stance closed off and face expressionless.

"Follow me," Sherlock said, striding on.

How strange that it was in this moment that Sherlock saw himself in his son's expression.

* * *

He took them to an old coffee shop that had a quiet backroom. A client that owed him for recovering her grandmother's necklace owned the shop they sat in.

Sherlock did so despise paying for drinks.

"How did you find out?"

"Ike's mum," Cal said wrapping his hands around the mug of tea. Sherlock stared at it, his heart sinking the moment Cal had shunned his preferred option of coffee and asked for Breakfast Tea instead.

Loyalty to John.

"…and she knew the name," Cal was saying, "and remembered the great detective who committed suicide then started solving crimes again three years later."

"People forgot," Sherlock sighed as he sipped.

"You left us," Cal said, sounding unsure.

"Yes."

Shock flared in Cal's eyes. "You…you're admitting it?"

"Did…did she remember another name? Jim Moriarty?"

Cal shook his head.

Well, that was some form of justice, Sherlock supposed. "He was a criminal genius. We…he set puzzles, crimes and I solved them."

Cal watched him with wide eyes and Sherlock was reminded of the ten year old that had listened, enraptured as Sherlock or John had told him edited versions of their days adventure.

"It went on for years. And then, when your father was pregnant with the twins, it changed. He was arrested for breaking into The Tower of London, The Bank of England and …Prison."

As if they'd gone back in time, Cal listened with that same fascination.

"He was released but…he set up a case; made it look as if I were creating the cases in order to solve them and claimed I'd hired him as an actor-"

He could see it. John's strained face, pale and tired from the pregnancy and infuriated as more and more people started to doubt. Late night fights as John tried to stir Sherlock into action and Sherlock, lying awake each night, prowling around his children and John and praying there would be another option.

"By the time most believed…Moriarty and I met on the roof. Three snipers. Three of you."

Cal looked sick.

"I was to jump or-" the alternative was still as unthinkable as it had been years ago. Worse, because then Phin and Faith hadn't been born yet and the idea that they might have vanished from the world without him having met them…

Unthinkable.

"I spent those years hunting down his criminal network. He committed suicide on the roof to prevent me from talking him around or winning…"

That gun shot and the horror of knowing he would have to leave his family-

Leave John pregnant and alone.

"When I destroyed it, I returned home."

Cal ooked shell-shocked and was silent.

It was unnatural on his son.

"If it helps, your father threw a vase at my head when he found out and anything else he could get his hands on."

But Cal didn't smile. Instead he pushed the tea to one side and stared at Sherlock fearfully.

"You…" he swallowed. "I remember having a dream once, where you screamed and Daddy woke you up and you wouldn't stop shaking."

It was impossible to know when that had been. All his children probably had glimpsed that at time to time.

Sherlock waited but Cal seemed to have finished and was instead looking at him with a childlike expression.

It was impossible not to get up and walk around the table to his son, who leaned forward into him and buried his head in Sherlock's shirt as he sat.

"I thought…" Cal shook his head. "I thought you'd left."

"I did," Sherlock said as he pressed a kiss to Cal's hair, his own unruly curls. "Nothing can excuse that."

"But-"

"Your father went through hell," Sherlock murmured. "You were without me for years. Nothing can change that."

Cal leaned on him for an age, turning things over in his head and Sherlock waited while he did, understanding the necessity for in depth thought.

As John said, he was just bloody lucky that while every single one of their children had inherited his propensity to want quiet and time to churn ideas over, not one of them ever tried to steal his sofa for the task.

"I…" Cal shifted a bit closer. "You don't spend time with us like you used to. I thought…I thought you weren't interested anymore."

"You don't need me," Sherlock sighed. "I…" he rolled his eyes, thinking of conversations he and John had endured over the past few years. "I am not very good with teenagers," he confessed. "I am not entirely sure what to do with you."

Cal leaned back, curiously.

"I…when you are adults or slightly older it will be easier. I can…but now…you switch between child and adult so quickly that I do not see the logical pattern of how to deal with it or what to give you. You are determined to prove yourself as being capable, yet the minute I allow you to do so you seem hurt-"

Cal was starting to grin.

"What?" Sherlock asked, exasperated.

"So…you're not regretting us?"

The floor dropped from under Sherlock.

Surely that was what had just happened, it made more sense than his son thinking-

"Wow," Cal grinned. "That was an erroneous deduction then," he said with a slightly mocking tone that sounded as if he were trying to quote Sherlock.

"Regret?" Sherlock repeated. "Regret?"

The cheeky grin that Sherlock had always adored snuck out. "So…no regrets then?"

Sherlock shook his head. "Though in retrospect, attempting to woo your father by cleaning came back to haunt me to no end."

"I meant," Cal laughed and looked suddenly lighter. "Everyone I talk to…I'm the son of Sherlock Holmes," he shrugged. "No-one seems to believe that you enjoy the domestic life. I figured…maybe you'd had enough of it, of us and that was why you'd started taking more cases."

"I take more cases because they are easier to solve," Sherlock sighed. "And they are less interesting. It's far more challenging now to work on two at once."

Cal nodded, his shoulders dipping a bit.

"Your father had started joining me more," Sherlock confessed, squirming slightly. "I enjoy…" he trailed off, not really wanting to admit it to his fifteen year old son.

"You enjoy…" Cal prompted looking confused.

He was going to have to kill someone after this. "Impressing him," Sherlock said, looking anywhere but at his son. "Your father is a hard man to parent with, namely because I am often surplus, however much the idiotic man will decide once every six months that he is a terrible father and should hand you all over to Archie. It would be agreeable every so often to impress him again."

Cal's mouth dropped. "You…he…" Cal screwed up his nose. "You two are…" he shook his head. "Insane," he decided after a moment. "Seriously, how do you and he think you're bad parents?"

"Well…" Sherlock considered it. "I left for three years and bring home poisons and body parts while your father threatens to sell all of you at least once a week and has the strangest discipline system known to man so from an outsiders point of view-"

"I love the way I grew up," Cal cut over him. "I just…we used to hang out-"

"I do not hang out," Sherlock muttered.

"We're having coffee and chatting. What do you call this?"

Sherlock glanced around him and frowned. "I do not hang out," he muttered. "This is…conversation."

"While hanging out."

"I am not your headmaster, I will not sigh in pain and wave you away with a nod."

Cal looked rather unrepentant about the mention. "We used to have fun," he said with a sigh.

"I know," Sherlock stroked a hand through his son's hair. "And once you've stopped growing and I've stopped sulking about it, we will again."

The flashed grin made Sherlock smile. "Dad, let's be realistic, it could be years before you stop sulking about that," his son said.

Brat.

* * *

As it was, Teagan was no bother when she found out. Instead, she came in, curled up next to him and John on the sofa and said nothing as she watched the crime documentary that featured Sherlock.

"Are you okay?" John asked softly.

Teagan nodded. "I just don't like remembering it," she mumbled to them, looking oddly young.

Neither did he.

* * *

Teagan and Cal talked about it, occasionally with each other, more often with John and less with Sherlock himself.

"What do they ask you?"

"Most recently?" John asked, snuggling close. "How I missed when I chucked that vase at your head. Cal thinks I was going soft and Tiggie reckons I was too angry to aim right."

Sherlock was silent, turning it over in his head. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Which one was it?" Sherlock demanded.

"I'm taking that secret to my grave," John said with a smile.

"You just missed, didn't you?" Sherlock decided. "The famous Watson aim isn't quite what the rumours have built it up to be-"

He broke off when John reached out and slid his hand down Sherlock's trousers. "What was that about my aim?" his omega asked in a deceptively sweet voice.

"That, surely would be more a question of mine," Sherlock mumbled as John climbed on top of him, wriggling out of his pyjama bottoms.

"We'll see," John purred.

* * *

John's heat crashed through earlier than expected and they spent the next five days in a frenzy, which was obviously not what their teenage children wanted to endure.

"Warning next time," Teagan huffed when Sherlock emerged.

"I texted," Sherlock muttered.

"We'd got the message by that point," Cal announced with a grin. "Phin and Faith are with Uncle Mycroft and the motley crew there."

"And you two?" Sherlock demanded.

"Headphones," Cal beamed. "Wonderful inventions."

"No…who looked after you," Sherlock asked as John emerged, blinked at their children and then seemed to collapse into the closest chair in horror.

"Sixteen, fifteen," Teagan said, pointing at herself then Cal. "We don't need babysitters."

"Boundaries would be nice though," John sighed to the table.

"It was entirely your fault," Sherlock muttered as he lifted the paper from Cal's hands.

"Did I look like I needed to know that?" Cal complained.

* * *

Phin and Faith were the ones Sherlock dreaded knowing.

And, if he were honest, he dreaded Phin's reaction more than Faith's.

* * *

It didn't take long.

At thirteen, Phin was the smallest in his class, as if waiting to suddenly shoot up and over take everyone. And, after Cal, Sherlock had no doubt that was exactly what Phin would do.

The evening news broke it in the end.

It was eerily reminiscent of the way John had found out, Sherlock thought as he stared in horror at the TV and the reporter recapping some of Sherlock's exploits for his latest one. Phin bounded over eagerly to turn it up and was standing almost next to the damned thing when the reporter mentioned Sherlock's confrontation with Moriarty and subsequent 'death period' in 2012.

Teagan froze and Cal stood warily.

John, utterly oblivious, continued to read the paper.

"That's crap," Phin said, spinning around to them all. "Why are they saying that?"

"It's the news," John said without interest. "It gets jazzier every year. Like watching a soap now."

"John."

His mate looked up at Sherlock's voice and seemed to finally take in the room.

Phin was looking at them all with something like dawning horror.

"No," he said, shaking his head, eyes fixating on Sherlock. "You wouldn't do that…you… that was the year Faith and I were born, you…you wouldn't-"

Sherlock bowed his head as John's chair scraped back across the kitchen floor and his mate stood.

"Dad," Phin yelled desperately. "You didn't leave us. Tell me you didn't-"

"He didn't," Cal said, stepping forward.

Sherlock shook his head. "Don't," he murmured to Cal.

Phin reared back, hurt in his eyes. "When?" he demanded.

Teagan turned to John. "Faith might have seen it," she said gently. "Do you want me to go and pick her up?"

John nodded. "Go with her Cal."

"But-"

John shook his head and something seemed to pass between them as Cal's shoulders dropped and he nodded reluctantly. Before the pair slipped from the room, Teagan flashed him a smile and Cal paused.

"You didn't leave," he said fiercely. "They took you."

And with that he closed the door.

Phin's eyes were bright as tears spilled over. "When?" he demanded again once the front door slammed shut.

"A month before you were born," Sherlock said, swallowing heavily.

"Did you know?" Phin asked John, looking a little wild.

John stared at their son. "Calm down," he started to try and soothe.

"Did you know he was alive?" Phin roared.

Reluctance was written in every bone of John's body.

"No," Sherlock said looking up and taking a breath. "He didn't know I was alive. For two and a half years your father thought I was dead."

Phin went ashen. "Two and a half years?" he whispered. "You…" he looked at John. "You said we were premature, that we were so small you could hold us in one hand…" tears were falling thick now. "He left you alone and…you were pregnant and alone?"

Sherlock closed his eyes again.

Pregnant, alone, in danger. The twins on a respirator. John in surgery.

He could have lost all three of them so easily.

"There were reasons," John said tightly.

"What? What reasons? He left you!" Phin almost screamed at him. "An omega, with twins, pregnant without their mate? We're bloody lucky we're here at all! And he knows that," he added with a furious jab at Sherlock.

He had.

What could he say to it?

"I am not some weak omega that needs your alpha dad to look after you four," John suddenly snarled, stepping forward. "Your father trusted that I could do it and I did. I kept us together, I didn't collapse. I had all of you to look after and he knew I would. Don't you dare imply that I needed him to keep you alive. You were mine, in me and I forced food down my throat to keep you going, found his scent where I could to keep you stable."

"You shouldn't have had to," Phin yelled back. "And you should have told me," he added, his face red from anger and tears. "All this time…all this time you let him take the credit-"

"For being your father? Yeah, because guess what Phin, he is," John snapped.

"We nearly died because of him," Phin said, stumbling and aiming for the door. "He can go to hell," he added as he slammed it behind him.

Sherlock leaned against the wall, listening to his son clatter down the stairs as he stared at the window.

"You go," John murmured, collapsing into the chair. "Even in this, he and I don't get on."

"He's right," Sherlock said, not moving. "You should never have had to do it all John."

"I defend, you attack," John said slowly. "You want me to apologise for not being with you when you were hunting down those murderous bastards that would have killed our children in their beds?"

"No-"

"Then don't you dare apologise to me," John snarled. "Go and find our son and explain to him that we have a deal and if wants to feel sanctimonious about it all he can find his own issues and stop fighting mine."

* * *

For an hour Sherlock watched his son sit on the railings, staring down at the Thames in a quiet part of Clapham.

"Ready to talk?"

Phin glared out at the water.

"You looked it up," Sherlock said after a moment. "You understand-"

"Yeah."

After a moment Phin closed his eyes. "He hates me," he said.

"Who?"

"Daddy," Phin said, leaning his chin on the railing. "I…he's always been the boring one," he said, not mincing his words and for a moment, Sherlock almost smiled at his son's inherited lack of tact. "The normal one. I never knew he could…" Phin frowned and then turned to look at Sherlock and glare. "You let me think you were the one to look up to."

Sherlock stared out at the water.

"John let me have you," he said after a moment.

Next to him, his son tilted his head, clearly not expecting that answer.

"When I came back…Teagan was angry, Cal was so completely and utterly besotted with John there was no getting between them and Faith was shy. You…you were absolutely fascinated with me. I assume you saw that I was an easy mark to get all the attention." Sherlock thought of the tiny boy that had handed him a lego brick and felt the slight weight in his inside pocket reassure him. "I needed you. After all that had happened…I needed one of my children to need me."

Phin was silent.

"You miss so much of John," Sherlock continued with a sigh. "If you saw…John could have raised all of you without me. If you had seen that you would never have contented yourself with me."

Reaching out he wrapped an arm around his son's shoulders. "You were your father's greatest gift to me, Phin. He saw how much I needed one of you to call for me first, to reach for me when the others reached for him and he never once fought me over it."

Phin looked up with tears. "Why…was I not…why didn't he want me?"

Sherlock pulled him in tightly and smiled as he reached into his pocket. "The very first time you saw me, you gave me this," he said holding the lego brick to his son. "You didn't know that I had been gone, you didn't understand the way Tiggie and Cal did. It had to be either you or Faith and you were quicker to reach out to me." He pocketed the brick again and pressed a kiss to his son's hair. "In many ways Phin, you have the best of John; his bravery, his strength. His ability to see the best in me."

Phin leaned in and tucked his head under Sherlock's chin, hands curling around his shirt.

"But God help you, you have my temperament," Sherlock added with a sigh. "Do you now see why I chose your father?"

Phin nodded into his chest. "I've never seen him like that," Phin added, pulling back. "I just…I can't believe…no omega could manage that alone."

"My omega can," Sherlock said, a little puffed up with pride. "Your Uncle Archie nearly ran for the hills when he met John the first few times."

Phin snorted. "Uncle Archie could make a rock look interesting," he muttered.

Sherlock reached out and grabbed his son's chin.

"You are in danger, Phinneas, of seeing only what you want to see," Sherlock said carefully. "Life will be a lot easier for you if you stop thinking you have spotted everything. Even I miss something and I know it."

Phin stared at him.

"For instance, Uncle Archie was raised by a family that bred him purely to snag an alpha and were emotionally abusive. Yet he's the most caring, calm person out there who scares Mycroft's entire department when your Uncle doesn't come home for three days in a row."

Phin's eyes widened.

"Your father shot a cab driver the same day that he met me to save my life, even though, as he has told me many times, I was being an idiot," Sherlock added. "Molly Hooper, who you declare as dull as ditch water, engineered the mechanics behind my death and kept my secret for years, even though she saw John often and felt guilty every day."

"You are joking," Phin gaped.

Sherlock shook his head. "Mrs Hudson was the victim of domestic abuse and quite frankly hired me to get her husband sent to death row because she couldn't forgive him for the loss of their child or the crimes he had committed."

Now Phin looked slightly shell shocked.

"Learn to look," Sherlock suggested.

* * *

"You shot a cab driver?" Phin asked.

Sherlock paused to listen by the doorway.

"Well, he was a terrible cabbie," John replied, sounding unconcerned.

"And you were strapped to semtex?"

"Mm," John replied with the same lack of interest. "I was more concerned with the way your father was waving a gun around. Thank god I convinced him to have some lessons."

"From you?" Phin asked.

There was a pause. "Who else would manage to give him lessons without shooting him?"

Sherlock smiled fondly.

"Could…could you teach me?"

The smile grew.

"Yes," John sounded so taken aback in contrast with his earlier blasé answers that Sherlock almost sniggered. "Of course I can…if you're sure…you don't want Dad to teach you?"

"No. I…I'd like you to teach me," Phin said sounding pleasantly surprised.

Even he couldn't miss John's delight at being asked.

"Sneak," Cal muttered.

"Your father's just stolen Phin," Sherlock muttered, turning to see his other three watching him. Wrapping an arm around Faith he studied them all.

"There's a classical concert," he said slowly. "If you would like to attend."

Faith beamed up at him and Teagan nodded eagerly while Cal looked pained. "Nah," he said backing away. "I'm good. I'll just go to the pub."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"Public…" Cal licked his lips, clearly trying to think of something. "House?"

"Same as a pub," Teagan sighed. "You are so thick sometimes."

* * *

"How did you forgive him?"

John looked up at his children. Sherlock was out on a case and, from the looks on their faces, this had been a long time coming.

Sitting back he reached out to Faith who took his lap while the others sat around the table.

They were all so big, he thought as he studied them all. So old.

Bloody kids.

"I mean," Teagan said, sitting down. "We know why he left and all of that but…he made you think he was dead."

Phin watched him avidly.

John looked down at Faith and then at Callum who was wearing a rare serious expression.

"I struggled," John admitted. "But I always knew I would forgive him. That's what annoyed me more than anything else to be honest." He smiled. "It was either be miserable and bitter and hate him for tearing us apart, or let him come home and be happy and loved. First option seemed like a bloody waste of time."

Cal snorted. "And here we were hoping for a deep and philosophical answer from Captain Practical."

John rolled his eyes. "If any of you are lucky enough to have what your father and I have, then I suggest you accept that sometimes you have to have a bit of trust and jump head first. Nothing worthwhile will ever happen to you if you don't," he said.

His children looked oddly surprised.

"Captain Practical," John muttered, lifting Faith off his lap. "You're all complete brats, I don't know why I didn't just piss off to Australia and away from the insanity of the Holmes family."

"Makes yours look more acceptable?" Teagan offered as he stood. "Tea would be great Daddy."

Utter brats.

* * *

Next Chapter: Love. One of the children presents and it throws off the balance of Sherlock and John's relationship


	5. Heat

Heat.

One of the Holmes children presents.

Warning for dubcon

* * *

No.

Cal Holmes shook against the wall as something strange raced through him.

No.

Terrified, he fumbled with his phone.

Dad.

He needed his Dad, now.

It was only later when his father appeared, racing over in that coat of his, that Cal started to work out dimly why he had called Dad over Daddy.

Alpha. He was scared and wanted his alpha father to look after him. To scare away those he could imagine were lurking close.

"Cal?" Dad asked, coming close, "What-"

Cal didn't want to see the moment his father realised it.

They never really talked about the fact that their parents were an alpha and omega. They'd make the odd joke that every month they had all learned to pick up headphones or piss off to someone else's house but that was it. They'd all heard the quiet discussions late at night as both Dad and Daddy wished and hoped none of them would end up with their gender.

And Cal had ruined it.

"'m sorry," he mumbled, leaning against the wall, feeling so hot and queasy that he would have sold his leg for a cold bath.

He blinked when he was pulled into a fierce hug. Then his father pulled back and cupped Cal's face with his hands.

"Has anyone-"

"No," Cal shook his head vehemently. "I hid when I realised…" he shuddered. "I feel really weird," he complained.

"You will do. Your body is adjusting," Dad said gently, his grey gaze scanning Cal intently. "We need to get you home."

Cal nodded.

* * *

They'd always saved the spare room for if one of the kids ended up presenting and needed one quickly.

Sherlock sat at the bottom of the stairs, needing to guard his omega son, but wanting to give the boy some privacy. The flush of humiliation on Cal's cheeks as he had started to enter the next stage of heat had been enough for Sherlock to back away and move down the stairs.

But no-one was getting past him.

Ever.

Not until his son consented to it.

The front door slammed open and Sherlock stood instantly, shaking his head as John came flying up the stairs.

"Go," Sherlock ordered.

"He needs-"

"He is not sick, you do not need to coddle him. I however need to keep any prowling alphas away-"

"I'll help," John said, squaring his stance.

"You blethering idiot," Sherlock snapped. "If you stay here, his heat will set yours off and if you go into heat I will have to deal with you rather than protect our son. Leave. Now."

John paled. In fact he looked almost white with shock.

"John," Sherlock rested his head against the banister, wanting to explain and comfort his mate, but needing to stay back. "Please."

It wasn't in John's nature to walk away. It was knowing his mate that well that allowed Sherlock to see just how much it took John to turn away without a word and leave.

* * *

The smell, which was strong and oddly familiar to the smell Sherlock had breathed in the moment each of his children had been born, had lessened a little. Picking up the bottle of water and Cal's favourite cake, Sherlock climbed the stairs and knocked on the door.

Cal chose to come out, dressed in tracksuit bottoms and an old t-shirt, closed the door firmly behind him then slid down it.

"Here," Sherlock said as he held out the bottle. "Drink this, you must be thirsty."

His son glared up at him. "Yeah, thirsty work that, wanking for hours on end."

Sherlock nodded frankly. "Drink it."

Looking thoroughly miserable, Cal accepted the bottle.

"I want the suppressants," he said.

"Absolutely not," Sherlock said calmly as he sat opposite his son on the floor.

"Daddy had them for years-"

Sherlock sighed, loud and pointedly.

"What?"

"I nearly killed your father when we first bonded."

Cal rolled his eyes. "I am not in the mood for some weird, funny story about you and Daddy-"

"I was being literal."

Cal blinked, astonished apparently.

"Your father was meticulous about his suppressants," Sherlock said slowly. "When he went off them…I hurt him every single heat. Neither of us could remember it. We had no food, barely any water…it was like animals tearing at each other over and over again."

"But it got better," Cal said, wrapping an arm around his knees. "Right?"

"Eventually," Sherlock conceded. "After I sent your father to hospital and took heroin a few times."

His son looked ill. "You…you put Daddy in the hospital?"

Slowly, Sherlock nodded. "While he was pregnant with Teagan," he confessed as he stared at the carpet intently. "You have no idea how close…"

Cal sunk back and stared at the carpet, tears slowly starting to drip down his cheeks as he absorbed the news. It was beyond frustrating; all Sherlock wanted to do was pull his son close and comfort him but contact with another body might set his son off again.

At that moment, Sherlock would have paid any price to have taken the curse of the omega gender away from his son.

Apparently, Cal was having the same thought. "I don't want this," he said brokenly. "I don't want to be an omega and have kids. I want…I want to travel and see the world-"

"Then do so."

Cal shook his head. "How? I'm useless now-"

Sherlock reached out and grabbed his son's chin firmly. "I refuse to believe that my son is so stupid that he could look at my mate and think an omega is useless," he snapped. "Stop indulging in teenage angst, it is hideously pathetic."

It had been meant to rouse his son out of his sad stance, but instead Cal's shoulders dropped even further. "I'm not John Watson," Cal mumbled, the shuddered and bent over slightly before scrambling up and vanishing into his room.

He hadn't touched the cake.

* * *

Cal's heat faded a few days later and, while his miserable son went and attempted to drown himself in the shower, Sherlock stripped the bed for the first time in years and dumped it all in the wash as he called John.

"Is it particularly important what temperature the sheets are put on at?" he asked as he shut the washing machine door.

"How is he?" John asked, ignoring Sherlock's question.

"Upset," Sherlock replied, eying up the washing powder and then the drawer he was relatively sure it went in. "Probably hating me for your first few heats."

"You told him?" John asked sounding aghast.

"He wanted to go on suppressors, what was I meant to do?"

"It didn't occur to you to wait until his heat had faded and talk to him when he wasn't feeling so shit?"

No. "It was information he would have received eventually," Sherlock huffed, giving up and pouring the powder in. "Do you add that liquid thing?"

"What?"

"To the washing machine?"

There was a very long pause. "You're actually doing the washing?" John asked slowly.

Sherlock glanced up at the spotless flat. "I'm bored," he muttered. "All I've done is prowl the flat and glare out the window. Even I struggle to keep that up for the better part of the week."

There was a long sigh. "Can I come home yet?" John asked quietly.

Sherlock started to nod and agree when his eye caught the calendar. "It's the third," he said, closing his eyes. "You'll be due soon-"

John hissed in annoyance. "Fuck that, I'll see you in a bit."

"Don't you dare go out and buy-"

But Sherlock was talking to the dialling tone. Infuriated, he threw the phone into the wall and kicked at the washing machine.

"Dad?"

"Your father is the most idiotic, pig headed, imbecilic moron," Sherlock snarled. "I swear if he goes through with this I will…" he faltered suddenly and bent over the table trying to calm the stirring terror within.

"Why what's he doing?" Cal asked, stepping close cautiously, his hair damp from his hour long shower.

Sherlock didn't dare say it.

Xxx

John smelt sterile when he walked in.

Sherlock stood at the window, arms folded and watching his mates every move. The alpha within him snarling in displeasure.

The moron had bought the strongest suppressors available.

"Daddy," Cal said, reaching out and burying his head in John's shoulder.

"You okay?" John asked, pressing a kiss to their son's hair and then pulling back to peer at Cal's face.

Cal burst into tears.

As John rocked him, he finally met Sherlock's eyes, wary but resolute.

Sherlock shook his head and clenched his fists, forcing himself to be still.

He stayed in the exact same position for hours.

* * *

Cal woke to shouting.

Disorientated he blinked at the ceiling, slowly realising that his parents had put him to sleep in their bed. He could remember sobbing into Daddy's shoulder and being relieved because Daddy didn't snap at him or tell him it wasn't that bad, he just let Cal mourn for the life he thought he was going to have.

Creeping close he put his ear to the door.

"-possessed you to even think about doing it?"

"Our son is upset, Sherlock. I am not leaving him for a week without us both because I've gone into heat. Not now."

"He'd have gone to Mycroft and Archie-"

"Archie? You really think that's the best person for Cal to talk to right now? A man who was raised purely to fuck a powerful alpha?"

"So you're the only one who can possibly make it right for Cal?" Dad yelled. "John Watson and his one man mission to save the world-"

"He's our son, what would you have me do?"

It sounded like a fist slammed on the table. "Damn it, John, you cannot go onto suppressors when you have a mate. Do you have any idea how vicious our next heat will be?"

"We've dealt with it-"

"When you were pregnant with my child. When I had walked away and was apologetic. I bit a chunk out of your neck because I was worried you might want better. This? This is going to blind me when we go into heat."

"Our son is in pain," Daddy yelled back.

"He'll be in even more pain if I end up killing you in a frenzy," Dad roared.

Cal swallowed, suddenly terrified as he leaned his head against the door. Daddy had…was back on the suppressors?

Was he mad?

"Don't exaggerate," Daddy said quietly.

"Exaggerate?" Dad sounded on the verge of apoplexy. "Exaggerate? Do you think I'm being overly dramatic, John? At what point are you going to get it through to my alpha side that you haven't done this to try and walk away. It will be how I will see it."

"I'll submit."

There was a long silence.

Curious, Cal shifted, trying to work out what Daddy was talking about.

"No."

Dad sounded tired suddenly.

"Sherlock, you know it-"

"No."

"If I submit until our next heat, if I don't fight you on a single thing, if we bring the heat on again the way we did when Teagan was born-"

"No."

"Will you stop fucking saying no?" Daddy hissed.

"Absolutely not," Dad said, still sounding weary. "I will not have you beg and bow at my feet. It is not happening."

There was the sound of a chair scrapping back and then Cal heard a long sigh. "John, you are far too old to be kneeling on the floor like-"

Dad broke off.

There was a very long silence.

"There are ways of proving obedience before our next heat," Daddy said quietly.

"I refuse to treat you like some twenty pound whore," Dad suddenly sneered. "Find another way John. And I told you once, if I kill you in a frenzy, I will follow after you."

The door slammed shut.

* * *

"Is going off suppressors really that bad?" Cal asked.

John looked over at his son who had been sitting on the sofa quietly. "Depends how long you're on them," he said gently. "I'd use them as sparingly as possible, but if you want to go travelling for a few months-"

"For you," Cal said woodenly. "Will it really be that bad for you?"

Ah.

"Your father is erring on the dramatic side," John sighed. "Ignore what you overheard-"

"He's scared shitless," Cal muttered, turning to look at John finally.

Yes, he was, John thought, trying not to see Sherlock's pale face and haunted eyes. "He's a brave man," John said eventually. "He'll get over it."

Cal switched off the TV and turned to fix John with a strange look. "Life would be so much easier of you weren't an omega," he muttered.

"I wouldn't have you," John said without hesitation. "And your father dragged his feet enough that I have a feeling we would never have gotten together without a forceful push." He studied his son carefully. "I'd happily pay any price for my family."

Cal closed his eyes. "I don't want to have kids," he said slowly.

"Neither did I," John replied frankly. "You're young, Cal. Far too early to be thinking about that. Go, enjoy your life. Go on the suppressants or come back here and one of us will guard you. But it isn't the end of your life, Cal."

His son opened his eyes and started at John for the longest time, then switched the TV back on.

* * *

Privately, John could admit he was terrified.

He wasn't as young as he had been when they had first bonded and this would be…hard. Intense. Potentially terrible.

Sherlock looked like he was about to throw up as he wrapped the leather around John's wrists.

"You won't hurt me," John said to him gently.

"Of course I'll hurt you," Sherlock hissed, seemingly completely focused on his task. "Pull on that," he ordered.

John tried to pull his wrists apart and nothing happened.

They were half naked in a hotel room that Mycroft had bought out for the entire night, far away from their children, just in case. On the table next to John was a needle, filled with adrenaline to be pumped into Sherlock soon.

Submitting to the alpha without being in heat.

"You won't kill me," John remedied. "This is our best option-"

Sherlock glared, furious apparently. "Just shut up," he suggested, his hands still careful as he encouraged John to lean back on the bed. "If you weren't so stupidly self-sacrificial-"

"He needed me," John said, swallowing as Sherlock strapped the leather to the headboard.

Pale hands carefully pulled the leather taut. "I need you," Sherlock said after a moment.

"Sherlock-"

But his dark hair, streaked with silver, shook as Sherlock started to undo John's trousers.

The sound of lube being opened made John stiffen, feeling as if this were completely out of his experience. They'd had sex outside of a heat before but usually they both blurred into a micro heat as they touched and breathed each other in. This would be Sherlock straight into it, forcing John into a heat to help him re-establish his claim.

Taking the knot immediately would be…

Sherlock threw the lube against the wall and stood, staring at it as the tube clattered to the floor, shaking his head all the while.

"I can't," he whispered. "I can't-"

"You have to," John breathed. "This is the safest option-"

"How-"

"Remember Teagan?" John asked desperately. "Remember the heat when she was born. I didn't fight you, I encouraged you and it was brilliant. Willingness. The alpha in you will see that, will know and it will soothe you-"

Sherlock looked over at him.

After a long stare, his mate bent down, picked the tube up and came over.

"You aren't," Sherlock said quietly, smoothing a hand up John's thigh. "You are not willing to do this. You're scared."

John tilted his head up to look at the bindings on his hands.

Not being able to fight back, being completely submissive…as much as he trusted and loved Sherlock, the situation was his own personal nightmare.

"It's not my nature," John said after a moment, looking back at Sherlock.

Those wonderful grey eyes stared at him, narrowing.

"I'm not a puzzle," John sighed, knowing his mate far too well. "No way I can be after all these years together."

"You are a puzzle," Sherlock corrected, sliding up John's body. "My best puzzle," he purred.

"You'd have solved it by now," John said, frowning as Sherlock's weight placed added pressure on his wrists. It felt fucking lazy to just lie there while Sherlock did the work.

"Hm," Sherlock said thoughtfully, his fingers dipping lower.

When he slid a finger in, John arched and craned his neck to kiss Sherlock, but the bloody man pulled back.

"Let me," Sherlock whispered. "Just let me do it."

"You should get something out of this," John said as he clenched his fists uselessly in the leather.

"I am," Sherlock replied. "I'm watching you."

John winced at the idea. "What joy to watch a fifty five year old-"

"Shut up," Sherlock murmured. "I'm watching my mate. Trust me."

There was such utter sincerity in his voice that John could only swallow, staring up at him. "You won't hurt me," he whispered again.

Something odd shone in Sherlock's eyes. "No," he said hoarsely. "I won't."

* * *

Twenty minutes later a nervous looking Sherlock took a deep breath and slipped the needle in then bent to John's neck, kissing him carefully around the collarbone, whispering murmurs of love that lulled John.

Slowly the kisses changed to nips and snaps and John felt a shiver of fear flicker through him. Sherlock must have felt it too because he growled slightly and started to scent John.

The memory of the bite clouded John's mind, filling him with nerves. He could see the way Sherlock's shoulders became taut with frustration, the way his movement became sharper, that the alpha was realising his mate had taken suppressants recently.

He flinched at the first bite.

Grey eyes snapped up to him as the teeth closed over John's hip.

"Mine," Sherlock hissed at him.

John nodded. "Yours," he agreed.

Sherlock cocked his head and slowly made his way back up to John's face. Whatever he saw in John's expression wasn't good because the alpha snarled in disapproval then pushed at John to roll him over.

The ties pulled and John tried to steady his breath, staring at the pillow. There was another disapproving sound and the next thing he knew Sherlock's tongue was at his arse.

Shocked, John tilted his head back a little, enjoying the feel of the forceful laps-

Oh god, the lube.

Sherlock was trying to lick out the artificial smell.

Without lube…John froze and there was another snarl, the grip on his thighs tightening hard enough to leave bruises.

He couldn't do this.

"Sherlock," John breathed as his eyes blurred. "Stop."

The tongue kept going, the grip still bruised.

"Please," John said, trying to swallow the tears back. "Stop."

Nothing stopped.

Sherlock wouldn't forgive himself for this. It was meant to be a foolproof plan, they just hadn't thought about the lube and without that…

It would hurt. It would be agony and if he tried to stop it, during sex…the alpha might just kill him.

Jesus, what would happen then?

Tears fell out and splashed onto the pillow as John pressed his lips together, trying not to make a sound, trying not to let Sherlock hear-

The alpha paused.

John found himself suddenly flipped onto his back again and blinking up at Sherlock in confusion as the alpha nuzzled the pillow and flicked out a tongue to taste the damp spot created by John's tears.

The tongue moved over to John's cheek, licking up the tears and then down, to John's mouth.

The kiss was careful and so terribly gentle.

"I'm scared," John mumbled between kisses.

His alpha pulled back and tilted his head again, puzzled.

Unsure, John tilted his head back, baring his throat as his heart thudded violently in his chest. Sherlock leaned in and John tensed, preparing for the-

Small kiss.

Oh.

With careful touches, small kisses were pressed all over John's body. Every so often the alpha would snap back to John's face, look for something and then start again on another part of John's taut body.

Maybe…

John wriggled, pulling at his ties-

The effect was an instant snarl.

Okay.

John frowned, confused. On top of him, Sherlock let loose a long sigh and nuzzled at John's stomach.

Watching him, John pressed his lips together, trying to work out-

Oh.

"You're trying to get me to relax," John whispered.

The small kisses continued.

_Trust him._

Swallowing but feeling calmer, John shifted, rolling over again. His alpha pulled back and seemed to be watching before he leaned forward and nuzzled John's neck with a pleased noise.

"Okay," John breathed. "Okay. Go on then."

* * *

It hurt.

There was no way of getting around it. Too big, too quick, and his alpha wasn't exactly being delicate about it. But it was just about bearable.

Hands caged around him and Sherlock's mouth nuzzled at his neck again.

Shit.

John closed his eyes as teeth sunk around the scar, braced for the pain of his skin splitting-

It hurt enough that he hissed in pain.

This time, his alpha was too focussed on claiming to stop, though he did slow a little, clearly relaxing after the bite.

Slowly, it started to ease, though John couldn't quite work out if that was exhaustion setting in or his micro heat. But things became fuzzy and more relaxed and the pain started to fade.

Sherlock started to speed up and the world blurred away.

* * *

When John woke it was to a darkened room. Sherlock was sat on the bed, his head in his hands as he perched on the edge.

"Okay?" John murmured gently.

"The urge has gone," Sherlock said tonelessly.

"Not what I asked."

"The sheets were streaked in blood."

Sitting up would hurt so John shuffled forward, curling his body around where Sherlock sat and reaching out to stroke Sherlock's knee.

"I'm-"

"Don't you dare say fine," Sherlock muttered, lifting his head slightly. "You are not fine. If we were betas I would be hauled away for rape and domestic abuse."

Drawing a circle on Sherlock's thigh, John stared at the pattern he was making. "We aren't betas," he said carefully. "Their ways, their rules are not ours."

"Not the point," Sherlock said, shaking his head. "If anyone else had done this to you I would have flayed them alive and hung their bones across London to show them what would happen if anyone dared it again. Yet I have done it three times now."

"It's the price," John said quietly.

Sherlock turned his head to John, eyes wide and looking oddly young, despite the silvered streaks in his hair.

"I told Cal," John said shifting to get comfortable. "If we weren't an alpha and omega we might not have ended up together. We certainly wouldn't have the kids, our life. If this is the price, then I'll pay it gladly."

Sherlock stared and then slowly slid off the bed, burying his head in the sheet's by John's chest. With a sad sigh, John stroked a hand through Sherlock's hair.

"You stopped," John told him. "You stopped when I cried. They didn't say that would happen."

Sherlock just pressed in closer. "You never cry," he whispered.

John wasn't sure what to say to that, but he took a deep breath, trying to think about what he'd learned.

"Look after me?" he asked.

Sherlock's head snapped up and he stared at John in shock.

Then nodded frantically.

"Thank you," he said.

* * *

Next up: Love


	6. The First One

The First One

In many ways John knew that he would always see his eldest daughter as his most terrifying adventure. The pregnancy had been difficult, her early years fraught and her teenage years a series of interesting stages during which he had sat up half the night terrified that he was being too protective and, in the same minute, far too blasé about certain things.

Why he'd thought it would be any different when she was looking to leave home, he had no idea.

The thing is, he'd thought that it would be for university or for some overly paid job that Mycroft would lie and swear blind he had nothing to do with. University in London turned out to be the plan and a room with Reece Lestrade her chosen choice.

Oh for the days when she'd stared adoringly at Reece's older brother and giggled.

Sherlock hadn't spoken to Greg for two months because of it.

John couldn't quite imagine the reaction Sherlock would have when he finally figured out their eldest daughter, their baby girl, was having her own baby.

It was an omega thing, he supposed, staring at Teagan as she packed up her DVDs and argued with Phin over a few. Being able to sense that his child, the baby he had carried was changing. To his horror he realised that he'd sensed it before she knew.

She'd taken a test or had it confirmed a week ago. He was sure of it. And suddenly the plans to move out were hesitant, as if a baby and a flat was far too much to do at once. He wasn't even too sure that Reece knew yet, certainly he wasn't acting shifty or hesitant when he'd popped round the other day. He suspected that Teagan was keeping it to herself for her own reasons, as much as to avoid Sherlock finding out.

Phin, having lost the epic battle over the DVD, stormed off to his room that he now shared with Callum and slammed the door.

"He's such a little brat," Teagan complained, running a hand through her loose dark curls.

"The Holmes genes," John said carefully, watching her. "You'll want to keep that in mind."

Teagan nodded absently as she packed, sliding the DVDs into the box with a neatness that would have baffled Cal.

Then she froze.

"Keep it in mind?" she asked, trying to keep her voice light as she glanced over at him.

John said nothing but ducked his eyes down to her stomach, currently hiding under the baggy jumper she was wearing. Clearly his daughter was feeling paranoid-

He cut off the thought process, slightly uncomfortable at how much he sounded like Sherlock.

Teagan stared at him, horrified. "Dad knows?" she asked, moving to stand and reaching for her phone.

Probably to tell Reece to leave the country and never return.

"I'm an omega," John said quietly. "Do you think I can't tell when my child is expecting one of her own."

Teagan hovered, unsure, before sitting back down. "Well…" she sighed. "That will be another reason Dad hits the roof if he knows you worked it out before he did."

John made a dismissive wave. "Are you happy?"

His daughter stared at him, then her eyes filled with tears. "I don't know what to do," she confessed, the tears spilling down.

Reaching out, he pulled her close and shushed her gently, rocking her the way he had when she was tiny. "Tell me," he murmured.

"I haven't told Reece," she sobbed. "I don't know…he's starting at the force and I'm meant to be at uni and we have the flat to pay for…I was going to get a part time job but the baby-"

John stroked a hand through her hair. "Do you want it?" he asked cautiously.

She hesitated, then nodded. "I just don't want it now," she whispered, as if it were a mortal sin.

John couldn't help it. He laughed.

"You are far too much like me," he said, smiling. "I would have begged, borrowed and stole to have put you off and to have had Cal instantly."

Teagan laughed wetly, "But…you were a good parent," she said, snuggling in. "I can't…I'm going to mess it up."

"You won't," John assured her. "I felt like that, hell even that witless wonder that is your uncle felt like that at first."

"Archie?"

"Mycroft," John corrected calmly. "But Archie was cacking himself too I believe. Mycroft told me years later that Archie had been worried sick about it all."

"Really?"

John nodded. "And I still am a good parent," he added. "Even when we're both old and grey I'll be a good parent."

"You are old and grey," Teagan sighed.

"Even when I sell you to the children's home I'll be a good parent," John added, using the old threat.

Teagan giggled. "We thought you were going to do it once," she confessed. "Remember? You even packed our bags and made us wait on the stairs."

"See?" John said, wincing a little at the memory. "You can't possibly be worse than me at it," he sighed.

* * *

She'd told Reece.

"Is Sherlock out?" the lad asked, looking like he might just throw up.

"No. But I can summon him back," John threatened as he watched Reece walk into the flat.

"Teagan…she said…you know. About…it."

"The baby," John said calmly, folding up his paper.

Reece sunk down into the chair opposite John and put his head between his knees.

For God's sake, he couldn't do this with both of them. John glanced at his phone, debating calling Greg.

He was hardly the person to talk to about being thrilled about pregnancy.

"I don't know how it happened," Reece said to his knees.

"There is no way we are dissecting that," John snapped. "I have no wish to know what you get up to with my daughter at night. As far as I'm concerned you're still staying up all night plotting how to shove a spider down Jamie's girlfriend's back."

"We used a condom."

John closed his eyes. "We are not dissecting it," he said with a hint of iron in his voice. "Talk to your father for that."

"What do I do?" Reece asked, lifting his head and staring at John pleadingly. "I mean…do I pack in the force and take a banking job? That gets money right? Then I can pay for her to stay at home. Or go to uni or…I don't know what she wants to do."

A wave of fondness overtook John as he watched Reece. "You're happy about it?"

"Teagan Holmes is having my baby," Reece said, as if John were thick. "We're having a baby. An actual-" he tried to shape it with his hands, "-baby. It's brilliant. It's just fucking scary. I was pissing myself about paying bills but at least I knew Teagan would take care of phoning the bill companies because she can argue the hind leg off a donkey but I'll have to pay and I don't think I can provide for them and I don't want her to regret this or feel trapped. That happens, right? People have babies young and then hate the older one-"

"You're three years older," John sighed, weary already of the tirade.

"Exactly," Reece said nodding.

The boy wasn't usually this thick.

God help them if the babbling was genetic.

"Don't worry about the money," John sighed. "If that's all that's worrying you, don't worry."

Reece blinked. "No," he said after a moment. "No, it's my family, I can provide-"

"You've just spent five minutes telling me you can't," John muttered, rubbing a hand over his forehead. "Pick one."

"I'll find a way-"

"God almighty," John sighed. "Just…Sherlock still runs off head first into danger, usually pulling me with him. Think of it as early inheritance. You may as well have it now, do something with it and then you can be properly miserable when we die because you get nothing else."

Reece stared and opened his mouth a few times.

"That is, of course, if Sherlock doesn't kill you," John added, picking up the paper again. "Even bets on that one."

He stared at the paper without seeing it, letting Reece absorb the idea.

"Do you think my Dad's gonna be mad?" Reece asked hesitantly.

"As I hear, he's enjoying not having Sherlock pester him every five seconds during his retirement to interfere in a case. Play it right and your father might be endlessly grateful to you for extending that peace."

"John."

The seriousness of the tone had John drop his paper, startled. "Are you actually asking me if you think Greg Lestrade will be angry that he's having a grandchild?"

Reece shook his head. "It's careless and thoughtless and I swear some days he likes Teagan more than me."

John watched him closely and shuffled forward. "Reece…my mate has regretted many things in his life, but none more so than the fact that when he left and I had the twins he wasn't there and things went wrong…" shaking away the memory he ploughed on. "Sherlock wanted more. And I wanted more. Children…they have the worst fucking timing in the world whether they're eighteen days old or eighteen years old. But trust me Reece, they are never something to regret or be disappointed over. Even when they're twenty one and have gotten their first love pregnant from a broken condom."

Reece leaned back and nodded.

Happy that his point had been made, John settled back. "I'd tell him sooner rather than later though. You might need protection when Sherlock finds out."

The Lestrade grin finally found its way onto Reece's face. "You're gonna let him batter me just a bit, aren't you?"

John held up his forefinger and thumb. "Little bit," he confessed. "But only because you used the words 'condom' and 'Teagan' in the same sentence after I asked you not to."

* * *

"Can't believe it, can you?" Greg asked as they stood in his kitchen having a cuppa. "I'm gonna be bound to the fucking Holmes family by blood," he said, shaking his head.

John shook his head. "Still getting my head around the whole grandfather thing."

There was a groan as Greg sunk into his chair and shook his head. "I hadn't even got that far," he complained.

"You are aware I'm placing dibs on Grandad, right?" John asked with a glare. "I let Sherlock have dad."

Greg frowned. "I swear sometimes you're worse than Sherlock," he muttered with a sigh. "Dear God, this child is going to be a nightmare."

* * *

Sherlock reacted far better than anyone had thought he would.

"Pregnant?" he asked blankly.

"Yes," Teagan said, tightening her grip on Reece's hand and stepping slightly in front of him.

As if the concept was utterly foreign, Sherlock turned to John.

"They're happy," John said, carefully.

Sherlock nodded, looking back suspiciously. "I suppose you could have mated with worse," he said with a long sigh.

John distinctly remembered Reece having to go on holiday when Sherlock had discovered the pair were having sex and had paced the flat muttering something about disposal, acid and torture methods.

"You're okay with this?" Reece asked looking a little braver.

"With the child, yes. I'm still not wholly keen on you," Sherlock replied. "But at least you humping my daughter has proved fruitful. One can only hope that my genes coupled with whatever latent ability your father passed onto you will produce an interesting child."

John was relatively sure there was something good in there.

"That's the father of your grandchild you're speaking to," Teagan snapped at Sherlock. "Be nice."

The look on Sherlock's face suggested that he thought he had been.

* * *

His granddaughter was born in July.

Ellie.

"Ellie?" Sherlock said, peering down at the baby. "I'm hardly sure that is a worthy name."

"Why? Is it not a caffeinated drink?" Reece asked as he held his daughter.

Sherlock glared at John. "I blame you entirely for this situation," he snapped as he held out his arms in a demanding manner.

"Look at Gramps being silly," Reece cooed down to Ellie. "Daddy's not giving you away to anyone, is he?"

Sherlock looked thoroughly put out. "Gramps?"

"Oh, you missed that discussion," John smiled. "Bad luck."

* * *

They finally got a cuddle with Ellie when Reece fell asleep against Greg.

"We should have had so many more," John whispered, watching his granddaughter sleep in Sherlock's arms.

His mate pulled him close. "We will have more," Sherlock said firmly. "A whole den of grandchildren and you can threaten to give them all away to the child catcher."

John laughed and lay his head on Sherlock's shoulder. "Our babies are having babies," he said, feeling his throat tighten. "How has that happened?"

Sherlock shook his head. "I have no idea," he said as he scented the baby. "She smells like a beta," he decided sounding pleased.

John smiled weakly.

At least Teagan had escaped that particular curse.

* * *

Next chapters:

Arrested

Graduation

Married.

Reversal.


	7. Arrested

Arrested

The phone was ringing.

It was the middle of the bloody night and the phone was ringing.

His phone, not Sherlock's.

John scrunched his eyes as much as he could, refusing to wake up. He was a grandfather now, far too old for midnight phone calls.

The phone stopped and then started again.

"What?" he mumbled into it as he pulled the damn thing close.

"John?"

"I'm not looking at the caller ID," John huffed, trying to keep still. The moment he moved he would probably wake up properly.

"It's DI Matthews. I have something of yours."

John opened an eye and kicked backwards. His foot connected with Sherlock's shin and there was a pained grunt behind him.

"Nope," John decided, yawning. "He's here."

"Ah, no. I meant your son."

John opened both eyes. "What do you mean you have him?"

"Phin's currently in the cells-"

"For fuck sakes."

* * *

"I blame you," John muttered as they climbed into the taxi. "Only your son could get arrested when it's snowing-"

"I doubt he looked out the window, saw the weather and begged to be jailed," Sherlock muttered, tipping his head back against the seat.

John threw him a filthy look. "You did that when the heat wave struck the year before we bonded."

Sherlock winced. "People were being stupid," he muttered. "And he is your son too."

John shook his head. "I need sleep," he complained to the window of the taxi. "I swear Reece gives Ellie sugar every time I have her."

Sherlock studied the floor carefully.

"I hate you," John groaned. "Why the hell are you giving a three year old sweets?"

"It's what grandfathers do," Sherlock said, as if John were missing the point. "We spoil them, indulge them and try to punish our children for their past bad behaviour by making theirs into demons."

"We'll have to drown Phin's in syrup then," John yawned. "Why was he arrested?"

"I am not psychic," Sherlock muttered. "Had you let me talk to DI Matthews then maybe-"

"No."

Sherlock stretched out a little. "It might be drugs."

John snapped his gaze to Sherlock. "What?"

"Or prostitutes," Sherlock considered. "Or maybe he's murdered someone. It had better not have been a boring crime-"

"If it is any of those then I will kill him myself," John snapped.

"What would be acceptable to you?" Sherlock asked curiously.

"My son not being a murderer, drug addict or…someone who has to pay for sex."

"Dull."

"Now you're winding me up," John sighed, relaxing a little.

Sherlock smiled.

* * *

Phin was swaying.

"It's good here," he slurred. "Man over there knows about knives."

Sherlock's eyes lit up in interest.

"How drunk are you?" John asked, scraping a hand over his face.

Phin opened his mouth and then his brow furrowed. "How do you measure it?" he asked curiously.

John clicked his tongue against his teeth. "Walk in a straight line."

Phin looked down at the ground. "I'm pissed," he decided, looking back up.

"And seventeen," DI Matthews added. "Found him outside a nightclub about to get himself a beating."

John turned to his son incredulously.

Said son simply blinked and shrugged carelessly.

"Great," John muttered, turning to his mate. "Ideas?"

"How much does he know about knives?" Sherlock asked, still looking towards the cells.

Even DI Matthews winced in sympathy for John.

* * *

Fitting punishment was leaving Phin to sleep on the sofa while he ransacked the boy's room. Since Teagan had moved out years ago the kids all had their own rooms and John stared at the condom in the bin with a sigh.

Then at the lube.

Then at the first empty bottle of vodka.

By the time he'd found the third he could feel something creeping up on him.

There were roll-ups as well and a pencil case filled with weed that his son must smoke out of the house. He was clever enough to cover it up if he wanted to.

It was the white powder that made John snap.

* * *

Sherlock had snuck out at some point (probably to interrogate the knife man from the night before) which meant there was no-one around to talk him down.

Without hesitation, John grabbed his youngest son's elbow and bodily yanked him up from the sofa. Phin let out a startled yelp and then the groan of one hungover and on the cusp of vomiting.

Not giving his son time to catch his bearings. John almost pulled him up the stairs and threw Phin into his room where he'd laid out the evidence.

"I'm too fucked to do this," Phin muttered, swaying.

John grabbed the boy by the chin, relishing in the flicker of panic. "How dare you?" he hissed. "Under my roof? You know my family's fondness for alcohol-"

"Must have your genes in me somewhere then-"

John shook him. "You be damn grateful, Phin, that you didn't grow up with alcoholic parents who would swig vodka like it was fucking water. You be damn grateful that you never had to see what your father taking heroin during my heats did to me. You want to do this, fine. But you get the hell out of the flat."

With that he let go of Phin's chin and turned to slam out of the room.

* * *

_Come home. I may have just thrown Phin out onto the streets._

_Why? SH_

_He's on a concoction of alcohol and drugs. I lost my temper._

_Ah. SH_

* * *

When Sherlock entered Phin's room his son was packing.

"Your grandparents were drunks. Your aunt was a drunk. This…" Sherlock tapped one of the bottles. "Is foolish. You are not foolish."

"I was bored."

Sherlock drew in a deep breath. "Is that why you're using heroin and cannabis?"

Phin shrugged. "You can hardly lecture me," he muttered petulantly.

Sherlock shook his head. "It is merely hard for a parent to watch their child repeat their mistakes," Sherlock said softly, frowning at the powder.

"My mistakes to make," Phin argued.

It was probably what Sherlock himself would have said at that age. "True," he agreed.

Phin's packing was slowing. "You'll talk to Daddy?"

"No."

The utterly betrayed look Phin shot at him rocked Sherlock slightly even as he tightened his fists to see this through.

"You either stop this or you go," Sherlock said, taking his hand from the bag of heroin. "I will not risk your father again with this in the flat."

"You're both so dramatic," Phin scoffed. "So you got high during a heat-"

"When I came to, your father was bleeding on the mattress. He was seven months pregnant with your sister. The doctor doubted she would make it full term when he first arrived at the hospital."

Phin stared.

"I will not make him endure watching you do this. It is your choice, you are far too much like me to be persuaded otherwise but this is our choice."

Phin looked away.

* * *

When Sherlock walked downstairs, John was sat with his head between his knees on his armchair. Walking over, Sherlock rested a hand against the nape of his mate's neck.

"Can we not go back in time?" John asked the floor quietly. "Things were so much easier when he was Ellie's age."

"You mean when I came back from the dead?"

John sat up and Sherlock let his hand drop. "Why is nothing in this fucking family easy?" John asked sounding exhausted.

"We're bored by easy," Sherlock said watching his mate closely.

John didn't smile. "If we throw him out we risk him falling into a bad spiral. If we don't…"

It was entirely unsettling being on this side of things. Sherlock almost felt sympathy for-

He tilted his head suddenly, considering.

Hm.

* * *

"Let him go," Mycroft said as he tapped a pen against a piece of paper in his study.

"He'll get into trouble," Sherlock argued, pacing. "He cannot keep his mouth shut-"

Mycroft's mouth twitched ever so slightly.

"Must you?" Sherlock snapped. "I am talking about my son."

"And I was merely considering how closely he resembles his father," Mycroft replied.

"I had some common sense."

Now Mycroft's mouth pressed together to keep a chuckle from spilling out.

"I did."

"I once had to take you to hospital after you deliberately took heroin you knew had been cut with another substance because you wanted to experiment. John had to shoot a cab driver because you wanted to try taking a poison pill-"

"It was the correct-" Sherlock cut himself off. "You used to kidnap me. I want access to the CCTV."

Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Yes, by all means, use me as a role model as to how you should deal with this. Especially given our close and loving relationship now."

"You have too many children. And they sit down politely," Sherlock muttered, shuddering at the idea.

Mycroft glared. "My children are polite."

Sherlock nodded, pained at the idea.

"My point, belaboured though it is, is that Phin is too much like you. If you keep pushing him he will never ask for help."

"What do you suggest? I tell him the best dealers?"

"After twenty years?" Mycroft muttered, looking back at the paper in front of him. "I doubt half of them are still alive."

"I have connections."

Mycroft nodded patronisingly. "I'm sure you do."

Sherlock tapped his foot. "Well, I don't order the dissertations of my son's English Teacher to check their qualifications and worthiness to teach said son."

"No," Mycroft said, sounding unconcerned. "You simply break into their houses to check their morality. My way is far better."

* * *

There was shouting coming from the flat as Sherlock approached it.

Annoyed, he opened the door and raced up the stairs.

"-everything's such a huge fucking drama, isn't it? Especially when it's me. When it's Teagan getting knocked up like some chav at eighteen then that's fine 'cause she's one of your three most favourite children-"

"Don't be ridiculous. Besides having a baby is not the same as taking heroin-"

"No. Mine doesn't require care and food for the next eighteen years-"

"-And I do not have favourites."

"No, you just have least favourites-"

Sherlock paused, trying to work out what to say when he opened the door.

"It's not like I'm going to force feed Dad heroin. What's the big deal? I'm having fun, I'm having a life and you act as if I'm committing some crime. It's my fucking life and I'll live it any way I damn well please. I am in control of it; I'm experimenting which Dad would understand if you hadn't sucked all the fun out of him."

Sherlock froze, suddenly panicked.

John never listened patiently in a fight.

Yanking the door open he brushed past Phin who whirled around to start on him and marched over to John who had braced his hands upon the table as he hung his head. Sliding a hand down to John's throat, Sherlock swallowed at the speed of his pulse.

"Do you need a doctor?"

Phin made an odd sound behind him.

John shook his head and then lifted it slightly.

Sherlock had a second to notice what was about to happen and moved as quick as he could to catch his mate as he simply buckled to the floor.

When he looked up Phin was already calling an ambulance, deathly pale.

* * *

"It happens sometimes."

Sherlock nodded, staring at his sleeping mate. "We were aware of the risks," he said, his voice tight.

"We'll keep an eye on it. It's been caught early and as long as he stays on the medication-"

Sherlock nodded again. "You are telling me nothing of use," he said, not taking his eyes off his mate. "Go."

The doctor left after a baffled stutter and Sherlock folded his arms.

"You knew?" Phin asked quietly from the corner.

"No."

He could almost feel the curious stare.

"I knew…omegas are meant to have children when they have their first heat. The older they are the more complications can occur. But…I always thought it was during the pregnancy. Not a complication years afterwards."

"So why did you tell her-"

"Your father is a doctor. He knew the chance this would happen."

Phin was utterly silent.

Sherlock reached out to smooth a knuckle down John's cheek. "This is my fault," he whispered.

"How?"

"I pushed for more of you."

Phin made a startled movement behind him. "Daddy…did he-"

"Ironically you and Faith were the only two that he did want right from the start. We deliberately tried for you." Sherlock moved his hand to John's hair. "Stupid man."

When he turned around, Phin had gone.

* * *

Cal punched him.

"I didn't know he had this problem," Phin protested. "None of us did-"

"No," Cal rubbed his knuckle and shook his hand out. "That was for taking Dad literally. You know that the fucking world revolves around Daddy as far as Dad's concerned. He was upset. It didn't mean he regretted having you and Faith."

"Daddy could die years before Dad now," Phin protested. "I think he might start to have some regrets-"

"God you are so boring with this," Cal muttered, stomping over to get a beer from the fridge. "You're so much like Dad that of course Daddy adores you. And you have Dad wrapped around your little finger you spoilt brat."

"But if Daddy-"

"Please. Dad will just knock back some sleeping pills and follow after him. Daddy ain't meant to go on ahead without him."

Phin sat heavily. "But…they're meant to be here."

Cal glanced over and sighed, handing him a beer.

"We're years away from that," he said sounding a little more calm. "But they had us late in life. We won't have them forever."

His little brother blinked at him in sheer confusion. Clearly that thought had never occurred to him before.

"I didn't even see," Phin whispered, still looking shaken. "I didn't even see there was something wrong."

"No-one ever sees everything."

"Dad did. Dad didn't even have to be in the same room as him to know-"

"He listened."

They both turned around to Faith who stood leaning against the door frame.

Something passed between the twins. Faith sighed and walked over, giving Phin a hug.

Cal hugged the pair of them, secretly terrified.

* * *

"Careful-"

"Sherlock, if you tell me to be careful one more time I will carefully ram your head up your arse."

"That's not even physically possible," Sherlock muttered as he helped John up the stairs.

"I could behead you first."

"Then why would I give a damn what happened after that? I'd be dead."

"You'd die knowing the humiliation your body was about to be in for."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "You're the one who gets humiliated easily. You'd be more embarrassed to be married to the corpse with his head up his arse than I would being that corpse."

"We'll see."

They reached the top of the stairs and John leaned into Sherlock. "I officially feel old," he mumbled. "Three minutes to get up the stairs."

"Better than six."

John nodded as they opened the door to a relatively clean flat if one ignored the bin bag slap in the middle of the flat.

"Are our children thick?" Sherlock muttered. "Tidy the flat also means remove the rubbish," he muttered pinching the bridge of his nose. "They must be more intelligent than-"

John peered into the bag and felt a sudden warmth in his belly. "Look," he said gently.

Inside was everything from Phin's room.

And, under the bag when they lifted it was a card.

"I'll take this down," Sherlock said as John studied the envelope.

* * *

The card inside contained two words in his son's messy scrawl.

THANK YOU

Embarrassingly, tears welled up in his eyes and John sat in his chair, stroking a thumb over the lettering.

* * *

That night John watched Phin as he sat trying to allow the TV to play one of John's old films.

"You are so much like him," John breathed.

Phin turned his head a little and shrugged.

"When you were a baby it was so obvious. I was relieved," John said, trying to keep his voice steady. "It meant Sherlock was still with me, in you. But…" he took a breath. "I started to think about all you would miss out on without him around. All the things I wouldn't be able to do for you, that Sherlock would and…I loved you just a little bit more because you were so much like him and just a little bit less for the same reason."

Phin didn't turn.

"And I shouldn't have felt either," John confessed. "You were my son and I was your parent. Whatever you've picked up on-"

Phin turned and buried his face in John's lap, tears soaking through John's trousers. Startled, John stroked a hand through his hair, trying to soothe his child. "What's wrong?" he whispered.

Phin shook his head. "I don't want you to die."

A chuckle burst from John. "I'm not dying you daft child. I'm ill. Or old. Or both. But I'm not dying. Someone needs to drag your father off a crime scene and to the table to eat something."

Phin shook his head. "If you go, Dad will just go after you."

John slid a hand under his son's chin and lifted Phin's head. "He won't," he said fiercely. "He's promised me."

Phin blinked.

John pressed a kiss to his head. "We promised each other. You four are ours. We'll stay with you as long as we can."

Phin curled a fist into John's jumper. "Promise?"

John nodded.

"Okay…" Phin wiped at his tear streaked cheek. "And you do realise that if you love me a little bit more and a little bit less than it balances out?"

John laughed. "I suppose," he said with some reluctance.

"It does." Phin lay his head back on John's lap. "If anything happens to Dad I'll look after you," he decided.

John smiled. "Will you now?"

Phin nodded.

* * *

Next Chapter: Graduation


	8. Graduation

Graduation

Thank you so much to everyone who is still reading this - two more chapters to go!

* * *

The check-ups were annoying.

"Dr Miller said that there was an omega suffering from the same stuff," Phin told John as they sat in the waiting room. "The joint pain, the weakened heart, the problems with the cervix-"

John winced and turned to his son. "You want to talk about my cervix?"

As if catching his words Phin blushed. "I was just saying that this omega," he carried on doggedly, "smoked weed and-"

"Yeah, that's always good for your heart."

"But it didn't kill him any quicker. They're wondering if there might be some compound in it that balanced out the effect. There's a Doctor Lambet who-"

"Phin," John said softly. "You don't have to come with me."

"Dad doesn't," Phin muttered.

Sherlock didn't because Phin did. The pair of them were so bloody similar about John's illness that putting up with random facts from one was bad enough without having them bounce ideas off of each other.

"He's sulking," John said after a moment. "He's heartbroken Faith didn't switch subjects at the last moment."

Phin grinned. "As if she would. Are you sure you didn't accidentally have Mycroft impregnate you with her."

"You are proof that never happened," John said tapping his fingers on the chair.

Silent and bored, Phin picked up a leaflet.

"DOS," Phin muttered, tossing the leaflet back down. "Stupid name."

"There have been stupider names for illnesses," John said trying not to lose his patience. "Delayed Omega Syndrome is better than some I've heard."

"It's boring. Obvious."

John nodded.

"Dr Watson?"

Relieved, John stood and smiled at Dr Miller and the girl with her.

"Dr Watson, I'd like you to meet Dr Philips. She's in training at the moment, I hope you don't mind her sitting in with us?"

"No," John smiled and held out a hand to Dr Philips. "Not at all. Nice to meet you."

"But you'll be doing it?" Phin demanded. "Right, the check up? You won't let some trainee kill my father?"

There were days that John wished Sherlock could hear the rubbish that came out of their son's mouth at times. It was his bloody fault after all.

Though, if he were being realistic, Sherlock would probably be voicing his objections in a louder and far more obnoxious manner.

* * *

After the physical, John returned to the office where Phin was watching Dr Philips with an oddly unsure expression on his face.

Well.

John felt his lips curve into an amused smile.

Both father and son had a thing for older doctors then.

* * *

"Any headaches?"

John shook his head.

"He had one last week."

John glared at the ceiling. "It was like a sauna last week and I hadn't had enough to drink."

"You must remember to hydrate yourself," Dr Miller said quickly.

John smiled tightly. It was a little difficult to remember when your six year old granddaughter tried to climb onto the roof.

"Have there been any changes to your heats?"

Once upon a time John would have been delighted at the faint, whimpering heats he was now experiencing.

Now it was just frustrating.

"They're still very weak," he answered.

"Lubrication."

John looked over at Phin who seemed to be tuning this part of the conversation out. "Minimal," he said eventually.

"Bleeding?"

John shook his head. Sherlock was so careful with him now that John would be amazed if they could bounce a glass of water over.

Dr Philips looked at Phin with some amusement.

"Don't worry, he'll delete this part," John reassured her.

* * *

Phin and Dr Philips were talking by the door as John shook Dr Miller's hand.

The man slipped him a prescription for a higher dosage. "Your son looks rather taken with my student," Dr Miller said, giving John a look.

Distracted enough that, for the first time they could talk about the illness properly?

John looked down at the prescription. It was only a minor increase.

"He is his father's son," John said, putting the slip into his pocket. "See you next month."

* * *

Faith came by a few hours later.

"Are you excited for tomorrow?" John asked his daughter as he washed up. Sherlock had gone through a phase after the diagnosis of buying a dishwasher and a microwave and all kinds of equipment. He'd been the perfect partner, cooking and washing.

For seven whole weeks.

It had bored them both.

His daughter merely raised an eyebrow and held out a hand.

"It's a minor increase," John said, toeing open the cupboard door so Faith could pick up the tea towel to dry up.

"As long as it is," Faith said as she started on the first plate.

They worked comfortably, enjoying the silence with each other.

"I'm seeing someone."

Surprised, John looked over at her. "Yeah?" It had been obvious for a while but Faith was so…independently cautious about these things that none of them had pushed her for detail.

She nodded. "I love him."

Must be serious.

Almost amused, John nodded. "Okay. I'm not Dad, I'm not going to get in a raving strop every time one of you has a new partner. Are you happy?"

Faith smiled. "Very."

"Good," John pulled the plug. "That's so good to hear-"

"He's an alpha."

John froze.

"Mm," he managed, tightening his grip on the sink, trying to sort through his reaction.

"I am happy," Faith added as she folded her arms.

"Faith," John stared out the tiny window. "God knows I can't lecture you but…you've seen the difficulties your father and I have had. Alphas…they are possessive, they can anger-"

"I know," she said quietly.

Sighing, John turned to her. "I don't want you to get hurt."

Faith tilted her head. "And if someone had said that to you?"

"I…" John scraped a hand over his face and shook his head. "I would have told them it was worth it."

His daughter nodded. "I can do this," she said reaching out for his hand. "I've had the best role model of how to be in a relationship with an alpha and not be pathetically submissive. You've always been the boss in our family."

John stared at their hands. "Yes," he said, trying to lighten the mood. "I suppose that even being the boss means you won't listen to me tell you how bad this idea is?"

Faith shook her head. "I love him," she said, as if that were all that mattered.

And, as much as he hated it, it was probably what he would say if anyone raised the same concern with him.

John let out a long breath. "Well…I suppose it will test your young man's resolve when Sherlock finds out. He'll have to decide if being beaten to a bloody pulp is worth it."

"Tomorrow," Faith said biting at her lip. "That is, if you manage to get Dad to go. I can invite Alex for dinner."

John nodded.

* * *

"We'll be late."

Sherlock's head poked around the door. "Why on earth would I want to be on time?"

"Sherlock, our daughter is graduating university and you-"

Sherlock rolled his eyes and disappeared around the door again. Sighing, John tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling.

This was hardly what he'd expected when he'd had his children all those years ago. He'd half expected that, with the Holmes genes, all of them would be graduating university early or something, not that only one child would bother to go while the rest deemed such an experience as a waste of time.

Teagan had never gone in the end. She'd started writing for an online paper and was doing well enough at it that when he'd asked her last year if she planned on going eventually his daughter had stared at him as if he were mad.

Then promptly got pregnant again.

Cal had made mutterings of it and then had fucked off to travel the world, popping back in without telling anyone and leaving when he damn well pleased. He'd been coming back more and more recently but John had a suspicion that was more to do with a certain omega that Cal hadn't told them about.

As if they'd care. Sherlock was probably counting his blessings at the moment that there were no alphas sniffing around their omega son.

Phin had burst out laughing when they'd asked him.

So, the bright white hope of the Holmes clan had ended up being Faith. And John had damn well expected that the family would go to support her at her graduation but no; Teagan was on her eighth month and seemed to have inherited his joy of pregnancy, Cal had muttered something about Toronto, a sword and some band. It wasn't exactly clear how they all linked together but John had learned that sometimes it was best not to ask.

"Sherlock!"

"Why are you so determined to listen to some dull, generic speech?" Sherlock snapped.

"Because it's part of it," John called back. "She's the only one who's going to do this."

"Ellie might," Sherlock reminded him.

"Then Teagan and Reece will be going."

Sherlock scowled as he poked his head around the door. "Please, we contribute far more to her mind than they do. We deserve to go if she picks a worthwhile subject."

Ah. John tried not to grin. "Well, if you don't want to go I could always see if Mycroft wants your ticket-"

Sherlock came thudding out of their room and into the kitchen. "She's my daughter, not his."

"Then, regardless of the fact that she took politics, would you bloody well get a move on?"

His mate sniffed in derision. "She could have done anything," he muttered petulantly as he folded his arms. "Anything and she chose to go into politics. My daughter-"

"Corrupt one of his and train them up as a consulting detective."

Sherlock seemed to consider it.

The door opened and Phin stuck his head round the door. "Ready?"

"Your father is trying to work out which of your cousins he should take as an apprentice."

Phin scowled. "Why do they get a go?" he asked sounding thoroughly put out.

"Revenge," Sherlock muttered as he picked up his coat.

"Maybe I'll become a criminal to get revenge back."

"Please," Sherlock scoffed. "You always get caught. It's a travesty how poorly you cover your tracks."

"Tracks?" John asked as he stood up.

The pair turned to him.

"Nothing," Phin said after a moment.

Sherlock nodded in agreement.

God, he didn't even want to know.

* * *

Sherlock took one look at the ceremony hall and balked.

"Must I do this?" he whined.

Any reply John was about to give vanished when his youngest daughter bounced over to them in her graduation gown, the hat tilted at a jaunty angle to sit upon her dark gold hair.

"Daddy," she said eagerly. "You managed to bring him."

"Yes," John said, giving his daughter a firm hug. "Kicking and screaming."

Faith grinned at him. "I've never really seen you in a suit before," she said stepping back. "You look very distinguished."

Sherlock cocked his head thoughtfully.

"I swear that's just a nice way of saying I look good for my age," John muttered as he watched Phin give Faith a hug. He passed her a card with a grin.

"You do," Sherlock breathed looking around. "I can think of many uses for that tie later."

"We're at a graduation," John said with a grin.

"We've fucked on a crime scene. This is hardly the worst thing we have done."

Both Faith and Phin turned to them looking slightly horrified.

"You did what on a crime scene?" Faith asked slowly.

"How do you think you two were conceived?" Sherlock asked curiously.

The twins' eyes widened.

"Twenty one years we managed to avoid that conversation," John sighed. "Come on," he said dragging at Sherlock, "let's find our seats before we scar them permanently."

* * *

"I bet they didn't just announce their conception of their child," Phin muttered pointing to another couple.

Sherlock glanced over. "That would be an exceedingly awkward conversation given that one of that couple wasn't present at the time of conception."

The man in front turned then glanced at his wife.

"He's joking," John said with a polite, strained smile.

"No I'm-"

John stamped on Sherlock's foot. "You are if I say you are," he hissed.

Phin was pressing his lips together. "Dimples?" he asked Sherlock.

"One of many factors," Sherlock said, leaning forward to see Phin past John.

Phin leaned back to study the couple while John winced and closed his eyes.

"Ah," Phin nodded. "I can see it now."

"Rather obvious when you-"

John held up a warning hand. "One more word and I will sell the pair of you. Understood?"

Sherlock shook his head. "You'd be bored in ten minutes," he decided.

That was probably true.

* * *

The alpha was tall, blond and handsome.

If nothing else, his daughter had wonderful taste.

"Dad, daddy," Faith said with a nervous breath. "This is Alex. My boyfriend."

Sherlock stiffened in shock while Phin tilted his head curiously.

"He…you're an alpha," Sherlock hissed.

"I think he's aware of that," John said softly. "We have a table booked-"

"That," Sherlock said, his voice rising, "Is not happening- " he broke off and spun to glare at John. "You knew?" he accused.

"I told him yesterday," Faith interjected as she stepped forward. "And don't yell at him."

Did he look like he was about to jump into his grave? Glaring at her, John held out a finger to Sherlock. "So help me God, if you don't sit down and behave like an adult we will have one almighty fight."

"She is a tiny beta girl dating an alpha," Sherlock roared at him, shoving his hand in the couple's direction.

"She is our daughter and I will not have you screaming her business in the middle of the university," John yelled back. "Grow up."

"Me grow up? Stop being idealistic John, this will hardly end well. You of all people know what could happen-"

"Yes. And you have no idea what it is like to see it from my side. So sit down, shut up and stop assuming you know everything just because you're fucking Sherlock Holmes."

"Just because you are happy to martyr yourself does not mean Faith should be subjected to the same fate-"

"Subjected?" John breathed. "Subjected?"

"Daddy, your blood pressure-"

John spun and gave his son such a disgusted look that Phin's mouth shut instantly.

"Yes subjected," Sherlock hissed. "You knew. You knew the risks and you still did it and that's stupidly John, not something that our daughter should emulate."

John hit him.

Hard.

There were a few shocked gasps from the audience they had unwittingly drawn and Sherlock kept his head in the direction it had been hit in, not looking at John as his body went rigid with fury.

"If you ever imply that having our family was stupidity, that the life we have built together is stupidity I swear I will walk out that door and not look back. You do not get to imply that you feel that way when our children are present."

Sherlock still didn't move.

John clicked his tongue. "Take them to dinner," he said to Phin, not wanting to look at Faith or Alex.

Then he walked away.

* * *

John was sitting in his armchair when Sherlock strode in two hours later and threw a packet of pills at him.

His prescription dose.

"You will die before me."

John tossed the packet across the room, rubbing at his forehead. "I'm older than you. That was always a safe bet."

A plate soared across the room and smashed against the wall.

Child.

"You can clear that up," John said into the following silence.

"Really?" Sherlock asked sarcastically. "Will you let me? Or will you decide once again that you have to prove you can cope alone?"

John sat back. "As I recall I have nothing to prove. I've done it before."

"I have not."

Sherlock sounded…

Stunned, John turned around to stare at Sherlock over the back of the chair.

His alpha had slid into one of the dining chairs and was almost bent over, head in his hands.

"I know what I promised," Sherlock said, from behind his hands. "But I am not you John. I can't…I cannot…" he looked up, tears streaming down his face.

"You're scared," John whispered as he stood up. "Don't be, I…the medication is working."

Sherlock sighed. "One day, one day it will not. I don't care if it is five days or fifty years from now. One day…" he swallowed. "One day you will not be in the world and I don't know how…"

John stepped forward and hugged him, letting Sherlock bury his head in John's hip.

"You won't slow down," Sherlock whispered. "You…we all have to act as if nothing has changed and…you need to slow down. It could buy one more day and-"

John sighed and stroked his hand through Sherlock's silvered hair. "I…one day Sherlock, I…I hope to God it is many years from now but…I don't want you to stop when I do. I want you to still have the work, London, the kids."

Sherlock sighed into his hip. "I don't."

Heart thudding, John pulled away to look at him.

"The work," Sherlock explained. "I want…I want to spend my days with you. Being with you."

John smiled sadly. "You'll be bored in a week," he predicted.

But Sherlock shook his head earnestly and didn't say a word.

"You're sure?"

A nod.

John let out a long breath. "Okay…but there's no way we're moving, Sherlock. I'm not getting a cottage in fricking Sussex. We both love this city, it's where our family is-"

Sherlock nodded, hand stroking John's side.

"Okay," John said in a softer tone. "Okay."

* * *

"Retiring?" Cal asked blankly. Next to him Teagan and Reece exchanged an odd look.

Phin went ice white and Faith swallowed.

"Oh for God's sake, your father is not dying," Sherlock snapped at them all. "I am simply no longer interested in sprinting around London. Criminals are so dull these days."

"Well…" Teagan drew in a relieved breath, "What will you do?"

"Visit…places," Sherlock said sounding a little unsure.

"Oh God, you're going to be OAP tourists," Phin whined, sitting back.

"Show an interest in my children's lives," Sherlock continued.

To John's amusement they all shifted in worry at that.

"And we are to have another grandchild," Sherlock added. "So we will need to fix whatever errors you two make," he said to Teagan and Reece.

John tried to cover his smile with his hand as his daughter glared. "You two produced them," she said pointing a finger at Cal and then at Phin.

Sherlock sniffed and turned to their sons. "Are you planning on settling down with that omega lawyer you are infatuated with? The one that asks you to bring back spices?"

Cal flushed and shifted. "I…he won't travel," he said uselessly.

"So he is just a bed and a fuck when you get back to the country."

Cal's eyes narrowed. "At least I have someone," he said throwing a look at Phin and smiling with glee.

"He does," John said easily.

Sherlock nodded. "He has shown exceptional taste."

Phin's mouth dropped open. "I…I'm not…who?"

Ah.

But Sherlock was ploughing ahead. "John said that you were interested in the student doctor. It is worrying how similar our tastes are. After all, I also fell for an older, attractive child bearing doctor-"

"Oh God," John muttered, wincing.

Phin looked shell shocked. "I…" he looked at John blankly. "Oh," he breathed. "I…I like her."

"I think my point has been proven," Teagan piped up as she smoothed a hand over her belly.

Sherlock sighed and slumped back in the chair. "I should have retired earlier," he confided in John. "Phin is worryingly dense, Cal has deep rooted commitment issues. Faith seems to have inherited your stubborn streak and they," he said, pointing at Teagan and Reece, "Still haven't got married, despite giving my granddaughter the Lestrade name."

"Our," John corrected wearily. "She is our granddaughter."

Sherlock shrugged. "She likes me the best."

"Daddy," Cal implored leaning forward. "I'm begging you. Make him go back to work."

John looked over at his mate. "Nah," he said, holding out a hand. "It's about time I let him help with you lot."

Sherlock smiled at him. "Quite right." He glanced over at Faith. "If that alpha of yours is still interested I suppose you could bring him for dinner."

"To dinner," Teagan corrected absently. "Not for dinner."

Sherlock smirked. "We'll see."


	9. Married

Married

Warnings at the bottom; I think you all know where this fic is going.

* * *

Daniel blinked up at John solemnly.

"You really aren't going to smile at Grandad, are you?" John asked with a sigh as his grandson's eyes narrowed.

"He's thinking," Ellie muttered, leaning her head against John's as he sat in his chair. "Mummy says he's going to be a philosopher."

Teagan had strange ideas at times.

"Boring," Sherlock announced as he walked back into the living area, holding out a drink to Ellie. "Do not spill that," he warned. "If I have to put the washing machine on one more time you will be going in it."

Thankfully, Ellie was not enough like Sherlock or Phin to find the idea exciting. "I'm careful," she argued. "I have to keep my dress pretty when I'm a bridesmaid."

John frowned and then looked up at Sherlock who was wearing a similarly unimpressed look.

"Whose bridesmaid are you going to be?" John asked curiously.

"Uncle Cal's," Ellie explained cheerfully. "Mummy said that Uncle Cal had eloped. Then she said that they would have to have a wedding when they got back. So I have to be bridesmaid."

Cal was married?

That little git!

Feeling the world shift just a little (one of his children was married?) he swallowed and stared back down at his grandson who remained solemn. Above him, Sherlock let out an annoyed breath and John glanced back up, exasperated. "You conducted our bonding ceremony with all the attitude of one sent to get the milk. You cannot say a word," John muttered as he leaned down to scoop Daniel up.

"Our parents were dead and gone. We're still here," Sherlock snapped. "What goes through that boy's head-"

"Mummy said she had to yell at Uncle Cal and Uncle Jack. And then she told Daddy that she was pleased because she wasn't the only one to make hairs for you."

Hairs?

John despaired of his family at times.

Sherlock froze. "Hairs or heirs?"

Whoa, what?

* * *

"I'm twenty five years old," Cal muttered as Sherlock circled him. "I'm far too old to-"

"Be hiding things from us like a child? Yes, I quite agree," Sherlock snapped.

"So you got married?" John asked quickly, shooting a glare at his mate.

"Seemed like a good idea," Cal said with a shrug. "Makes things easier with the baby."

"Right," John said nodding. "But er…I though Jack wanted to have…babies."

"Jack also wants his career. We talked about it. He'd have to wait until his mid-thirties and with what happened to you-" Cal cut himself off and shifted uncomfortably. "It made more sense this way."

Sherlock looked away.

"Though admittedly, we didn't quite plan on doing it this quick," Cal added.

What?

"You're both omegas," John said slowly. "How the hell do you accidently get pregnant in a same sex relationship?"

"We…experimented with-"

John held up a hand. "Changed my mind, I really don't want to know."

Cal flashed him a grin. "Third grandchild," he said with a smile. "And mine will have the Holmes last name, be born in wedlock and be the best."

"Why?" John asked, rubbing at his head, sure he was about to get a migraine.

"Because it's mine," Cal said, as if that should have been obvious.

Given who he was talking to, perhaps it should have been.

* * *

The following week was spent at the dreary surgery. Rain was bucketing down with a vengeance as John sat patiently in the waiting room, blessedly alone for once as Phin had suddenly developed an odd case of 'I need to stay in bed and have sex all morning'.

Despite longing for the quiet, John found himself hunting for a vaguely interesting magazine five minutes later and it was a relief when he was called into Murray's office.

"How are things?"

"Good," John said as he sat down. "Hectic. Phin's still seeing Leah and Cal is pregnant. Faith got a promotion, she and Alex are starting to get over the last bump they had-"

Dr Murray nodded and then looked down, as if ill.

Strangely, John became very aware of the rain. Of the noises in the room and how bright the lights were.

And, as if he were Sherlock Holmes, John knew.

"They aren't working anymore, are they?"

His voice came out calm.

Or numb.

Dr Murray swallowed. "I'm afraid not, John."

Oh.

"-some drugs testing. Might be worth-"

It was like being underwater and watching someone on land call out to you. As if there were no relevance whatsoever.

He was dying. What did words matter?

His stomach vaguely returned back to him, as did the ability to swallow. Strange, the need to swallow before asking a question.

Was that normal? Or had he just never noticed it until now?

"How long?" John asked, feeling as if he'd just been swaddled by a misted cloth and was about to be dropped into the ocean like a stone.

"Months."

Months. They had booked tickets for a show in July…had he ticked the cancellation option to get money back?

"How many?"

Sherlock wouldn't go on his own. Probably be thrown out.

Dr Murray shifted. "Two, maybe three. You and I both know that patients vary in strength and will."

So maybe four at the most?

Two four six…

Cal was six weeks pregnant.

Thirty six minus six…

He'd never meet it.

Never see his next grandchild.

Daniel was the last. And that little git never smiled.

He'd never hear Sherlock whine about being Gramps to the next one…hell, Sherlock could probably have 'Grandad'.

"I need to…" John stood, not at all sure what he was doing. Should he stand? No. "I need to walk," he decided.

Dr Murray sighed. "I can call Sherlock-"

Sherlock.

Oh god, Sherlock.

"I…no. I can't...I have to tell him…"

Dr Murray looked rather derailed. "I…it might be an idea to bring him here or to-"

"Yeah," John nodded. "Yeah. I'll…I need to absorb this. I'll…phone for an appointment to discuss options."

Wait…was that what he was meant to say as a doctor? What was he meant to say as a patient? They never gave training for this.

"John-"

But he had walked through the door.

* * *

Sherlock was 'consulting'. Or what normal people would call entertaining himself by insulting law enforcers.

John stared at the ceiling all night, still not sure how he was meant to react.

* * *

_I'm dying._

It took him until he was brushing his teeth in the morning to remember it.

Cal's baby was due in January.

He'd never see it. Never even see that year. Ellie might remember him; at eight years old, nearly nine, she would still have memories of him.

Daniel wouldn't.

And Faith and Phin…he'd never meet their children.

It wasn't fucking fair.

Angry, John threw something at the mirror and the damned thing smashed to pieces.

* * *

John pressed his hands together as if praying.

Did he tell him?

It seemed strange. The idea of not telling Sherlock absurd but…

There was nothing between them that was unsaid. No secrets anymore, no hidden worries. There wasn't a single thing John felt needed to change before he…

Before he…

Died.

The same with the kids.

Months of them feeling obligated, of them treating him like spun sugar or months more of a happy family?

John sucked in a breath.

* * *

When Sherlock returned home he was baffled by the silence.

For as long as they had been parents, John had always made noise about how much he missed silence. And, for as long as their children had moved out, the man had made an obscene amount of noise using the television or the stereo, the hoover, anything to hide the silence.

But there was silence.

Cautiously, he peered into the flat.

It looked…messy.

John was in and it looked messy. Not that it was ever neat, but it was certainly the type of messy that John couldn't abide.

John's eyes followed him. Sherlock could feel it on the back on his neck, a layer that he couldn't peel away.

"Yes?"

His mate continued to stare at him. "The kettle boiled," John said, sounding as if he were a thousand miles away.

A cursory glance told Sherlock that the kettle had boiled almost an hour ago.

Something was wrong, something-

Phin had been in bed yesterday.

Doctor's.

He didn't allow himself to complete the leap of logic, instead crashing down his thought process ruthlessly as he put the kettle on.

Two mugs.

He stared at them as his hands placed them precisely on the work surface.

Two.

John had different tea, because of his heart. He'd hated it at first. Like a diabetic sneaking sugar, John snuck tea.

Was that why-

Sherlock cut the thought off again.

There would be a gap in the pots if they didn't have to buy his tea. Or he'd have to move them together but that would be uneven and show the pattern on the tiles on the wall at a lopsided angle. Four pots were a perfect link, John always adjusted them into the right position-

The kettle clicked off and he stared at it blankly.

He could still feel the weight of John's gaze.

"How long?"

He didn't want to know. He didn't want a countdown like some game.

How much can you fit in before-

"I was away," he said, holding onto the bench. "Why…you are meant to call when you have news-"

"Over the phone?" John asked quietly.

No.

Nowhere. Ever. The news should never be spread because it point blank couldn't happen.

"The man's an idiot," Sherlock decided, standing. "One opinion. Inconsequential. We'll get the best-"

"We did get the best. You said this last time."

"Better than him," Sherlock insisted.

"Sherlock-"

The sound of his fist hitting the work surface surprised them both and Sherlock felt a strange buzzing in his wrist.

When he heard John stand, he turned his full attention to making the tea.

"You're angry," John said quietly, closer. He'd obviously come over

Obvious. Sherlock was in distress, of course John would walk over.

But when Sherlock would be distressed, inconsolable, the bastard wouldn't be able to walk over then, would he?

"You had the appointment yesterday," Sherlock said crashing the spoon around the mug. "You-"

He spun, wielding the spoon at his mate. "You weren't going to tell me?" he demanded, not looking at John but at the windows behind instead. "You…were you just going to wait until you keeled-"

Do not say the words. Saying them made them true.

Silence.

There was a moment, a crystal clear moment that he would never forget where, out of the edge of his gaze, he could see John close his eyes and Sherlock…

_Rain, tea, wooden table, floor needed a mop. Faint smell of pastries from the shop downstairs and John… the smell of home, family, laughter and love. Half past eight, Sunday, little traffic._

He didn't want to believe it.

He still didn't want to believe it when John leaned into him, tears hot and silent as his shoulders shook.

Nor when John clutched at him, desperate and almost painful.

On automatic he held his omega, his hands moving without conscious effort to soothe.

"You can't," he said in a voice he didn't recognise at all.

John let out a breath against him and Sherlock could feel him start to gather himself. To look up and pretend for Sherlock-

"Don't."

John buried his head in the nook of Sherlock's neck and Sherlock cupped the grey hair, wanting to keep him there forever. Safe from the illness that was wrecking his body and k-

He couldn't even think the words.

"You weren't going to tell me," he breathed, still unable to understand…how…his mate…his mate couldn't…it wasn't time yet.

It would never be time.

John stared at Sherlock's skin. "Yes."

It was odd, being so angry with someone that he wanted to storm out, fight, leave and yet being so scared that he couldn't bear to let the stupid bloody idiot out of his arms.

"There's nothing between us unsaid, Sherlock. You watch films or you hear stories about someone dropping down de…" John skittered away from the word. "And how they all wish they had said things, know things, asked things. I know all of it and you know all of it."

"You didn't tell me," Sherlock said, still stuck on the idea. "You weren't going to-"

"I was."

Sherlock studied his mate.

"I realised that…that I didn't want to ruin that. That if it were reversed I would bring you back just to murder you for not sharing that last secret."

And it would be, Sherlock realised.

Their last secret.

His mate was dying.

Horrified, the tears spilled out and all he could do was hold on.

* * *

"When should we tell the kids?" John asked, his finger drawing a pattern on the bed sheet.

God, the kids.

"You need to go back to the doctor. Ask questions," Sherlock said, smoothing a hand down John's side. "Once we have all the answers, we'll tell them."

John nodded looking a little relieved. "You'll come with me?"

Of course he would. Sherlock nodded fiercely and reached for John's hand.

"Together," he said softly.

The relief in John's face was painful.

* * *

They were silent when they came back from the doctor's the following week.

"I should think about what I want," John said suddenly as they lay in bed.

Sherlock refused the conversation.

* * *

They still weren't speaking the next day and John went for a walk while Sherlock held his violin and stared at nothing.

Original prognosis wrong.

Not months.

Weeks.

The door slammed behind Phin.

"That fucking bitch," he snarled, pacing the floor. "Pedantic, bossy, histrionic cow. Do I look like I'm thick?" he asked rounding on Sherlock. "I swear, I don't know why I put up with her. She's always banging on about some slight…do I look like I give a fuck that the postman saw me naked? Leah is a stuck up-"

Sherlock slammed his fist through the wall and Phin's rant stopped dead.

"Dad?"

"I have no interest in your ranting and raving about your part time partner. Mine is dying."

It was the first time he'd said the words aloud.

Dying.

Phin should know-

Rounding on his suddenly pale son, Sherlock pointed with his good hand. "You," he said with a snarl. "You didn't tell me you weren't going. The one…the one appointment…and he was alone. He was alone when they said-"

He could barely breathe for the weight of his emotions, barely stand. The next thing he knew his son was holding him and pushing him into the sofa.

He held on to his boy, the last child John had given him, and sobbed.

* * *

John was greeted by the twins when he got back in.

Funny, as old as they were now and as rarely as he saw them together, he was the only one that still called Faith and Phin that.

That would die with him too, he supposed.

"Where's your father?" he asked as he dumped his keys on the table.

"Asleep," Phin said quietly.

Mm. John turned to his children.

They made it almost three seconds before the pair rushed at him, holding onto him as tightly as they could.

And, as he had done the moment he took them home, he tugged them tight and breathed them in.

Trust and belief.

He rocked them both as they cried on his shoulder.

* * *

The kids stayed over.

Trudging back into the room he shared with Sherlock, John lay on the bed. Moments later, his mate wrapped around him, tightly.

"Stupid vow," Sherlock murmured after a while as he stroked John's hand, a finger brushing the ring he had given John years ago.

"In sickness and in health?" John asked as he watched Sherlock's long fingers.

"Death do us part," Sherlock replied. "As if such a thing could part us."

John smiled weakly, his own fingers tracing Sherlock's as tears blurred his eyes.

"I'm scared," he whispered.

Sherlock pulled him tighter. "Together," he promised. "I won't leave your side."

But I will, John thought and turned around to bury his face in Sherlock's shoulder.

Oddly, that was harder to bear.

* * *

Cal was on his way back. Teagan and Reece on the first train back too.

Faith and Phin seemed to have moved back in.

It occurred to him to joke about it, about how they were only staying to stake a claim to their inheritance but he bit his tongue.

The older two would be eased by it. His youngest two would not.

* * *

"I love you," John murmured into Sherlock's kiss.

It was slow, so slow.

"You don't have to," John reassured Sherlock, stroking his back. "What's the worst that could happen?"

Sherlock looked up, unimpressed and raised an eyebrow.

"Hell of a way to go," John said, trying to smile. "I just…we've gone slow for so long. Must be erring on the boring side."

Sherlock blinked and then stroked a hand down the side of John's face. "I have hurt you enough through this. Every time I can go slow…it's a gift."

John stared, stunned.

* * *

Slow.

So slow.

And perfect.

In the bed that two of their children had been conceived in, they rocked against each other quietly, carefully.

Perfectly.

* * *

By the time Cal made it back, John was in the hospital.

And he wouldn't be walking out.

"How's bump?" he asked with a smile.

Cal stared at him with tear bright eyes. "I fucking hate being pregnant," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I…I was going to come back and tell you all about-"

He broke off and leaned forward, burying his head in John's stomach as he sobbed. Winding a hand through his son's curls, John sighed.

"I need you to do something," John said quietly.

His son twisted his head to look up at John. "John's a shit name," he said after a moment with a half- hearted smile. "I'm not naming my son after you."

Son.

Grandson.

Trying to shove away the bitter voice, John shook his head. "Make your father smile."

Cal pressed his lips together. "That's your job."

"Your father would smile at you when you glanced in his direction," John argued.

"You don't even need to glance." Cal spoke with such absolute authority that for a moment John had nothing to say. Oddly touched, John stroked his son's hair. "Please?"

Cal nodded and then snuggled closer.

"I was in Brazil," he said after a moment. "I had fucking fantastic seats for a football game."

John smiled. "You'd have got an apology from me if it had been Rugby."

Cal laughed wetly.

* * *

Monday morning, John woke to tea.

"This is why I love you the most," he said to his daughter. "None of the other ungrateful brats brought me tea."

Teagan shrugged. "Well, maybe you managed to hide your love of it from them," she said sarcastically.

"Lowest form of wit," John chided, sitting up awkwardly to reach for the cup.

"Highest form of intelligence," Teagan retorted calmly as she took a sip of her own mug. "Ellie drew you a picture. I think it's safe to say she won't be an artist."

Amused, John took the picture and tilted his head over the coloured crayon scribble. "Are you sure you didn't mix this up with Daniel's?"

"And this is why Dad is her favourite grandparent," Teagan said with a smile.

John smiled and looked away.

"She will remember you," Teagan said after a moment. "And the rest of them will know you. I promise."

John nodded.

"I'll look after them."

Touched, John reached for her hand. "I…I leant on you too much. I-"

"You are clearly delusional," Teagan dismissed. "You didn't lean on me, Daddy. You threw us up to the sky."

Tears pricking, he put his tea down and tried to wait out-

His daughter wrapped her arms around him.

"We'll look after him," she promised, sounding suddenly teary. "I swear we'll look out for him."

Turning into her, he breathed his firstborn in and adjusted his grip effortlessly, then let her cry onto him.

* * *

Sherlock ignored every single protocol in the hospital. It wouldn't have surprised John if he and Phin had a secret bet going on as to who could be scolded the most.

Though Phin never crawled into his bed and lay with him.

"I can feel it," John said, curious. "Something…I can feel something different."

Sherlock tightened his grip.

"There's a pie in the freezer-"

"I don't care about pies," Sherlock muttered. "I hate pies. I only put up with them once a month because it makes you feel like you've won something."

Bastard.

"Thank you-"

"Don't you dare," Sherlock hissed. "Don't you dare thank me. I didn't…I should have done so much more for you."

"I…" John breathed his mate in. "I was so alone. And then you came along…my bright, fierce, wonderful mate. Beautiful and dangerous and safe."

Sherlock turned his lips to John's forehead.

"You gave me everything," John whispered. "So I will damn well thank you if I want to thank you, Sherlock Holmes."

There was a weak chuckle.

They lay quietly.

"I voluntarily attended a funeral once," Sherlock said suddenly.

"You volunteered or were uninvited?"

"The latter," Sherlock confirmed without a shred of humility. "They…there was a poem about stopping clocks…packing away the world…"

"Never seen Four Weddings and a Funeral then?" John asked tiredly.

He could almost feel the baffled gaze.

"It said," Sherlock continued on. "That nothing would ever come to any good once the loved one had gone."

"Sherlock-"

"Insulting," Sherlock breathed. "You made a mark. You made our children. You are loved. Always."

Well then.

John smiled, squeezed Sherlock's hand and they watched the rain drizzle down the windows.

Together.

* * *

A week later, Sherlock stood and stared down at the grave. Steeling himself, he leaned down and pressed a long reverent kiss to the headstone, clutching at it as fiercely as he could as he drew in strength from the contact.

John H Watson-Holmes.

Ours.

Always.

* * *

Warning: Character Death


	10. Reversal

Reversal

AN: Thank you all so much for following this - it's been a completely different type of fic to work with and it was lovely to get such a fab response. This is the last chapter.

* * *

Phin stood in the flat, staring at the skull.

"He never did tell us whose it was," he mused, tracing a finger of the familiar surface.

Teagan looked up from where she sat on the floor, sorting things into piles. "Fight you for it," she said eventually.

Phin turned to glare. "It belongs here," he scowled. "The flat would be wrong without it."

She pulled a face and turned as Cal and Faith came back down.

"Look," Cal said, shifting his grip on his youngest. "We found treasure."

Faith kneeled down with the safety box, placing it on the floor. "We hardly dug for it," she scolded.

"It was buried under Dad's shit. I reckon that's more dangerous than digging," Cal argued as he sat as well. "Come on long legs."

Phin rolled his eyes and sat down. "Still gutted about that extra inch?" he asked snidely.

"I've got extra inches elsewhere," Cal said with a wink.

Trying not to be amused, Phin tipped his chin at the box. "Key?"

"Lock pick," Cal huffed. "As if Dad kept keys."

Accepting his youngest nephew, Phin bounced the boy on his lap. "Watch your father, the thief," he suggested to Aidan.

The eight month old cooed and smiled.

"He's thick," Phin muttered.

Cal shot a steely gaze at him.

"Children," Teagan scolded.

"Yours will be better," Phin confided in Faith. The bump from her first child was just starting to show.

She leaned into him and nodded. "Uncle Archie said they'd be round later. Uncle Mycroft is…" she sighed. "Taking it hard."

"I'm still in shock," Cal muttered as he jimmied the lock. "Who the hell would have thought Dad would hang on for another eight years?"

"He promised Daddy," Phin said, wrapping an arm around his twin.

"Got it," Cal announced gleefully and flipped the lid open.

They all stared inside.

"Oh my God," Teagan whispered. "It even smells like Daddy."

And it did, Phin thought as he leaned in. That wonderful, roughly comforting smell that he hadn't experienced in years.

The photos were on top. Some they had seen before and some they hadn't. They'd been a physically well matched couple, Phin thought as he studied one photo of his parents just after Teagan had been born. Daddy had fit well against Dad, one blond the other dark…

"Daddy wrote letters," Teagan whispered as she pulled them out. "When Dad…when he was away."

They all looked up in surprise and slowly handed them out amongst themselves.

Before he could start to read, Cal suddenly switched letters with Phin. "Know what an egotistical wanker you are," he said with an attempt at a smile.

Baffled, Phin kept one arm around Aidan and held the letter up to read.

_Sherlock,_

_The twins are one year old today. One whole year. It's hard to get my head around that. You've been gone now for over a year._

_I hope there's an afterlife though, because you have got to be chuckling in amusement about what you've left behind._

_Our youngest son must have listened to you wittering away at my stomach all those months because he is the spitting image of you. Not in looks but dear God has he inherited your withering look and scowl. And your lungs. That boy could shout a building down. Phinneas doesn't seem to fit him anymore, far too sedate for our boy. Teagan has taken to calling him Phin. I can imagine your response already; 'John, it is an unimaginative name, people listening will assume that we were dull, could think of nothing and simply picked out a piece of fish anatomy. And worse; it might imply we're boring enough to keep fish!'_

_Faith is over her stomach bug. Our little angel; one wouldn't think she was the fruit of your loins. You would have been brilliant reading to her; she is so fascinated by voices and yours would have kept her occupied for days. She is, however, now starting to display your hatred of being bored. Though even at one year old, she deals with it far more maturely than you ever did. I think, finally, I may have a child that actually looks like a Watson. There seems to be blond hair coming through now. It had to happen eventually._

_I wish you could see them. I have pictures of us with Callum and with Tiggie, but the twins…you were so excited. I wonder if you'd have figured them out by now, if you would have explored the twin bond to your heart's content. I would write 'experiment' but you so objected to that idea that I wouldn't dare. 'My children are not experiments, they're projects'. I would hasten to add that while the sentiment is appreciated, I would have liked you to have realised that it meant experiments get packed away after a short period of time and hazardous waste goes in the bin outside._

_Even writing that makes me ache. I miss you so much. There is so much more we should have done together. I could write a list and never stop._

_Thank God for the kids. I see you in them every day and it keeps me going._

_Always,_

_John._

Phin smoothed a hand over the paper, pressing his lips together before turning over the page; his fingers feeling the press of ink on the reverse.

_To my dearest John,_

_Did you think I would be furious or guilty if you had shown these to me? You told me there was nothing left unsaid and yet I found these, buried in the cupboard upstairs. It was behind the hoover, John; you know I do not look for things there._

_And shame on you, this system is unfathomable; why you left them in this order is beyond me._

_It is Phin and Faith's birthday today, our first since you left us. It hasn't been a year yet but I can see that milestone approaching. It seems so wrong that life has simply continued on without you._

_Our little boy has taken it the hardest. Strange, isn't it? For years you were so convinced that he was indifferent about you and yet…it should have been obvious John. He is so much like me that he couldn't help but adore you. Faith has turned to that alpha again. He and I have reached an uneasy understanding. It helped that Mycroft added his thoughts, such as they were. I will bite my tongue as you would want for as long as she is happy. _

_Do you remember once that I promised you I would smile for every day you were alive? It seems so long ago now, when Teagan was still just an idea, a possibility, potential. When our lives together were hazy and fogged. Back then life without you seemed impossible, a heresy. My entire world was wrapped up in flesh and blood and jumpers._

_It is strange how different our letters are. Yours cry out for a life we never lived and mine are drowned in memories. I look at Teagan and Cal sometimes and remember when we thought no more would come, when you finally wanted more and biology failed us. You told me you thought you had failed._

_I go back to that moment and I wonder. That last pregnancy, twins, my death, the stress. I wonder what would have happened had we left it alone._

_Then I look at our youngest two and I understand._

_We have four gifts, John. Four wonderful gifts that we were able to raise and watch grow into adults. _

_And I know why you wanted to thank me._

_Wherever you are, I want you to look. Look at what we made, look at what we did._

_And, one day, I'll join you and point out everything you've missed because your observation skills have always been appalling._

_Yours,_

_Sherlock._

* * *

"Think they're watching over us?"

Cal turned his head to look at Faith. "They're shagging," he said with a roll of his eyes. "Do you not remember what it was like when Dad went on a long case away or Daddy went to a conference? "

"Dad's been dead for a week, they must have stopped by now," Faith said doubtfully.

"I can just hear it," Teagan grinned as she sat on the floor with a beer. "'Look, Sherlock, they're talking about our sex life now. I blame you entirely for this'."

Phin snorted. "'But we had a good sex life, John. It's healthy for them to know that'."

"Little brats are taking the piss," Cal added as he leaned his head back. "Should have sold them all years ago."

"Then we would have lost out on years of entertainment," Faith said, deepening her voice. "Besides, they're interesting. What would we have done with boring children?"

"Had a normal life," Teagan laughed.

"Dull," Phin and Faith muttered.

* * *

The End.


End file.
